Justin heard a loud grunt above the ruckus in the field and immediately looked around to locate his friend. Gareth, his two brothers, and three cousins also turned at the sound, and all saw Gareth’s father slump to the ground under the club of one of the poachers. The thief did not need to turn his horse and run as quickly as he did, however. The seven youths did not give chase, but stood wide-eyed, some with mouths agape, staring down at the huge man. The intruders that they had been engaged with took the opportunity to run as well. Kegan’s barking voice startled the young men from their stupor. “They’re cutting out those calves! Move you ignorant clods!” All but Gareth jumped to run in the direction of the herd. He looked blankly at Kegan, shook his head as if to clear it and turned back to the man on the ground. Slowly he knelt and gently turned him over, searching his face, and fearing what he might find. The older man coughed, and Gareth’s breath, which he’d been unconsciously holding, left him in a rush. At the same time a few tears of relief spilled from his eyes. “What are you doing, Gareth? They are making off with a dozen calves and four horses while you play nurse. It would take more than that to break his hard head, and yet you let them escape while you sit here.” Gareth looked up as if Kegan was speaking a foreign language that he could not comprehend. He was still recovering from the fear that he’d lost his father, and adjusting to the relief that he had not. “By the king and all of Signum! You are as thick as he!” Kegan jerked his horse’s head around, kicked him savagely, and rode off toward the disappearing thieves, cursing loudly as he went.

Gareth looked back down at the simple, weather-worn face of his father, then began examining the swelling lump on the side of his head. The older man groaned and began to sit up. “Lie still, dad, I’ll get some cool water.”

“No, I can rise. Just steady me a bit. There.” Gareth helped him to the near edge of the pasture where the stream ran clear and swift, and bathed his head until the wound was numb from the icy water, and the swelling began to diminish. Then he wrapped a piece of his shirt over the cut and they started back toward the cattle shelter. By the time they reached it all the men were there. Kegan’s irate voice could be heard above all.

“Don’t try and calm me! I’ve every right to be angry! Whose calves were stolen after all? Mine!”

“They weren’t yours yet,” a voice countered. “You hadn’t paid for them.”

“Are you saying I don’t pay my debts? Let anyone here say if I haven’t always been good for the agreed price,” Kegan challenged.

“I’m just saying, the trade hadn’t been made, so Jiri is more at a loss than you, and it was Keary’s horses that were taken.”

As Gareth and his father came into view everyone turned toward them and no one spoke for a few seconds. Gareth saw his brothers and cousins standing near Justin in a tiny knot in front of a small group of men. Opposite them stood Kegan, and behind him, the two owners of the stolen livestock plus a few others known for trouble and short, ill tempers.

Gareth’s father spoke, “Kegan, you know, as a clan, we absorb these types of losses as a whole. You will be compensated for any ill you’ve suffered today, as will Jiri and Keary there.”

“But if you and yours had been on watch as you should have, there would be no losses.”

“We were on watch, Kegan. What are you saying?” asked Gareth.

“Not even properly armed,” Kegan said.

“How many of us comes heavily armed for a midday watch?” asked Gareth.

“And when the bandits appeared,” continued Kegan, “did you fight or even give chase? No, you fall or stand about like children.”

“Kegan that’s crazy. My dad was struck down while trying to defend our herds, and my brothers and cousins did give chase, but we were on foot at the time while they were mounted.”

“Why am I even speaking to this mountain of cowardice and spawn of a coward?” Kegan demanded of no one, and spun around and left the field in the direction of his home. Those who had stood behind Kegan looked expectantly at Gareth and his father for a few long seconds. The tension that filled the air seemed completely out of place in the pastoral peace of the field. The sound of a few nearby animals’ teeth tearing up the lush green grass, and the vivid blue sky pressing down on the men could have called them back from the unfortunate event, but they didn’t sense those things.

Finally one of them broke the silence. “Do you have any word to send to Kegan?”

“About what?” Gareth’s father was genuinely surprised.

“Do you intend to answer his challenge to your family?”

Gareth’s father’s face became troubled as he realized the import of the man’s words. “Kegan was angered at the loss of his purchase. I do not believe he meant what he said to be a call out. Over this? It would be foolishness. No. I have no answer to send him.” Several of the men standing behind Justin and the watch nodded in silent agreement with this reasoning. Justin looked with desperate hope at Gareth. Given Kegan’s age, it would be Gareth who would answer the call, and it would not be considered a disrespect for Gareth to offer this to his father. But he saw that Gareth had nothing to add. He just stood solemnly taking it all in. Justin’s face grew dark and agitated. His mind raced with indignations he could not voice, lest he bring further shame on his friend’s family. He quickly threw down the staff he’d grabbed as a makeshift weapon when he and the others had come to help, and ran from the field.

In another place and at another time, another of the same name waited.

Justin stood in his best friend’s kitchen shifting his weight from foot to foot as he watched Matt meticulously lacing his new basketball shoes, precisely adjusting the tension on his foot at every set of eyelets. He’d been at it for five minutes and had only inserted the laces into, and fine-tuned, the first three of the nine sets of eyelets on each foot. Justin thought he might explode if he had to wait for Matt to finish at this pace before they could leave for the school. It was the first day of Georgetown Middle School’s Summer Basketball Camp. Justin checked the watch on his wrist against the daisy shaped clock hanging above Mrs. Fisher’s kitchen sink. Matt began the fourth set of eyelets on his right shoe. He threaded them, pulled the laces straight up, wiggled his toes, tightened the right lace, wiggled his toes, loosened both laces a little, wiggled his toes again, looked satisfied and moved on to the fourth set of eyelets on his left foot.

“I can’t believe he’s making me wait like this,” Justin thought, “It’s just not fair. I’d never treat him this way. I mean, I managed to get up and be ready on time. Why can’t he? But then nothing is ever actually fair anyway. You can always find the injustice if you care to look.” He watched as Matt calmly began to work on the fifth set of eyelets. He inserted all four ends into the holes, pulled them through, and checked them. Finding one twisted, he removed it, turned it over and reinserted it, pulled them tight and began the toe wiggling again. Justin felt his head was about to explode.

“Oh, you could have done this over the weekend, couldn’t you?” Justin finally exclaimed.

“Huh? Done what?” Then looking up at Justin and sensing his exasperation and impatience for the first time, Matt checked the clock on the microwave and replied, “It’s only 8:25. We don’t have to be there ‘til 9:00.”

“Yeah, but don’t you think we should…I mean, we don’t want to…Well, you know! You could have done this last night,” Justin finally finished not really knowing what else to say. He realized they were, in fact, still running pretty early, but he also realized that he didn’t care how early they were, he just wanted to move. He knew he wouldn’t feel at ease until they were sitting in the gym, ready for the camp to begin. It was almost all he had thought about for the last couple of weeks.

“Relax,” said Matt, and continued his lacing at a much faster, yet still careful rate. He finally finished, took the shoes off, dropped them in his bag, and put on his old sneakers. A couple of moments later both boys were outside dribbling down the walk.

It was only 8:45 when they jogged up to the school gym doors, but when they pushed them open and entered, they were surprised to see that they were still not the first to arrive. Justin was doubly surprised to notice that the one person who had beaten them there was his friend Ernie. He and Ernie had been in the same math and science classes. And although they enjoyed being lab partners and attending math field days together, Justin had never once heard Ernie mention basketball. They went over and joined him on the bleachers.

“Hey, Ernie,” Justin greeted him, “I didn’t know you wanted to try out for basketball.”

Ernie greeted his friend with a weak smile. “I don’t, but my parents think I spend too much time reading and on the computer. They think that this is just what I need. ‘Get involved, bring me out of my shell, et cetera, et cetera.’ Could be worse I’m sure. They might have enrolled me in ballet,” he said trying to sound like a good sport about it.

“Oh,” said Justin considering Ernie’s awkward position, and then tried a sympathetic laugh that only made it as far as pathetic.

“Sounds rough,” commiserated Matt.

“I’m not worried about these two weeks,” Ernie went on. “It’ll be just like a very prolonged gym class. I can endure that. What I dread is mom and dad pestering me to practice all summer for tryouts next school year.”

“Well, if it helps any, you could practice with me some,” Justin offered.

“You mean with us,” Matt corrected.

“Really? That’d be great. Thanks,” Ernie sighed, and he looked like a drowning man who’d just been thrown a life preserver. “That should satisfy my parents that I’m getting involved, and if I practice away from home, they won’t always be watching over my shoulder for progress.”

“By the way, Ernie, this is Matt.”

Ernie looked at Matt. “Nice to meet you. I can use friends here. Incidentally, my dad’s name is Matthew too.”

Justin laughed. “Well, Ernie, he only wishes his name was Matthew, right Matta?”

“You’re so funny,” Matt replied, giving Justin a light shove. “He’s right, though. My name isn’t Matthew; it’s Mattlig. It’s Swedish. It’s been used on my mom’s side of the family for a long time. ‘Matta’ is one of my mom’s baby nicknames for me.”

“Oh, I see,” said Ernie. “Actually I think I can empathize. My name is,” he paused, took a deep breath and continued, “Erasmus.”

“You’re kidding,” Matt said, incredulous.

“You’d just have to know my parents,” Ernie said. “Mercifully my grandmother dubbed me ‘Ernie’ when I was a baby. Still, there’s always the first day of school and roll call in every class, when I have to give my nickname to each new teacher. You might know what I mean.” And then to change the subject he asked, “So, are you really interested in basketball?”

“Yeah, and most other sports,” replied Matt. “My dad says now is the time to try them all so I can settle on something before high school. So this summer it’s basketball.”

The three continued discussing the camp although it was mostly Matt who talked and Ernie who listened. Ernie soon discovered that Matt was the type of person who could talk to almost anyone about almost anything for almost any length of time. Luckily Ernie was the type of person who could listen well, with genuine interest, and in fact Matt was interesting to listen to most of the time.

Justin sat beside them engrossed in his own thoughts about the upcoming weeks. He hadn’t been quite able to believe it when he’d heard about the camp. It wasn’t a real camp, as far as packing your clothes and staying away from home went, but that didn’t bother him in the least. It was a day camp. The boys simply reported to the school gym three hours every day for two weeks. All Justin cared about was getting as much out of it as he could. He’d always loved sports, especially basketball, and he would finally be old enough to try out for a school team rather than youth league when he entered seventh grade in the fall. He’d been looking forward to that chance for the past couple of years. So when the announcement came that the school athletic department was going to offer this new program, Justin had been so excited thinking about it that he’d almost missed his bus. They would be getting training from the school’s coaching staff, and he figured along with all the practice he did on his own, he would really have a good chance of making the team, maybe even getting on the first string. He assumed all the starting positions would go to eighth graders, but he could still hope to be one of the top substitutes. The wooden gym doors creaked and four more boys entered. Soon Justin counted 28 boys, 15 of which would be chosen in the fall to play on the school team.

When the coaches finally came in it was just after 9:00. Many of the boys were like Justin, waiting impatiently for a chance to move and burn off some energy. But first there was talking; announcements about schedules of practices, scrimmage games, preliminary tryouts, and more.

Justin had just begun to lose track of some of the information and to wish that the coaches had prepared a handout, or that he’d thought to bring a notebook and pencil, when a movement at his side caught his attention. There was Ernie taking it all down, even in outline form, in a ring binder, as calmly and naturally as if he’d been in class. Justin sighed in relief, knowing that his friend would be glad to let him copy it. Then he saw that he wasn’t the only one who had observed Ernie. A boy on the next set of bleachers was elbowing the guy beside him and smirking as he jerked his head in Ernie’s direction. The second boy rolled his eyes and then looked back at the assistant coach who was taking his turn talking.

He was introducing the trainers who would be helping during the summer sessions. He explained that they were students studying to be teachers and coaches and were all attending college on basketball scholarships, which made the boys as anxious to work with the trainers as with the coaches. As interesting as it was, the boys were getting tired of the talking and antsy to move off the hard bleachers, so they were relieved when the coaches went off to the storage room for basketballs.

As soon as they turned to go the boys all began to stretch and fidget and talk in low tones, except for the boy who had noticed Ernie taking notes, who practically bellowed at him.

“Hey, pencil neck, you can go home now; science class is out for the summer.” The small group around him laughed loudly.

As the laughter waned the boy next to him yelled, “Maybe he’s looking for the cheerleading tryouts.” Another wave of rude laughs rose from the group.

Justin’s face turned beet red, and he nearly growled under his breath, “Some people are so…” Out loud he said, “Why don’t you two mind your own business.”

Ernie turned a calm face to Justin and said, “Hey, Justin, relax.”

“What?” Justin looked incredulous. “Didn’t you hear how they were talking to you?”

Ernie was still calm. “What they think or say about me is their concern, not mine.”

Justin spluttered, “I don’t even pretend to understand that, but…”

Just then the coaches returned with the equipment, and half the boys, including Justin, Ernie, and Matt were called to the floor and taught a warm up drill, while the other half, including those who had taunted Ernie, were given sign up forms and pencils. In about fifteen minutes the groups traded. Then, when all the paperwork was taken care of, the entire group was taught several skills drills that they were to practice in their own time. Justin didn’t need a notebook to remember those. This was what he’d come for. He could hardly wait for the afternoon so that he’d have all the time he wanted to practice each one.

As they walked home together though, Justin recalled the name-calling incident and said, “Man, those guys were burning me up yelling at you, Ernie. They make me so mad I could punch them.”

“They’re pretty much always like that,” Matt added. “The first one who yelled is named Brandon, and the other is Todd. I had two classes with them last year. They’re actually a year ahead of us, but they had to retake ’cause they’d failed. Anyway, they were always picking on people, usually smart, nonathletic types, no offense, Ernie.”

“None taken,” Ernie replied, “But guys, they don’t really bother me. I mean why should I get bent out of shape because they’re rude or insulting? That’s nothing really to do with me. ”

Justin stared at his friend in disbelief. “Because it’s directed at you! He’s slamming you!”

Ernie seemed unaffected by Justin’s emotional explanation. “But it doesn’t change me. I’m still the same. He’s the one who’s got a problem with me, not the other way around.”

“What? I just don’t get you, Ernie,” said Justin shaking his head in disgust. He was beginning to wonder if he knew Ernie at all, in spite of the time they’d spent together.

Ernie seemed pensive for a second. “Well, I am not the one who is being critical or finding fault, you see.”

“Right. We understand that.” Justin said impatiently. “But would you mind explaining why you don’t care if Brandon slanders you in front of a gym full of guys from our school, some of whom will end up being our teammates. I mean these guys aren’t going away, Ernie. And Brandon was trying to humiliate you.”

“I realize that. But I didn’t feel humiliated. A little embarrassed when everyone looked at me, but not humiliated. What he says doesn’t really have anything to do with me. The things that matter to me are those that I allow in my mind, my heart, and so on. They come out in what I say and do.”

“Hold on, Ernie, I thought you were just a regular geek. Now you’re sounding like a twinkie.”

“Maybe so, Justin. But let me finish. What he says and does comes from what he has allowed inside him. Whether it has come out or not, it is still his, not mine, even though I see or hear it. So what Brandon does or says is outside coming into me, my ears, eyes, whatever, right?” Justin was just standing there with his mouth hanging open so Ernie continued, “If his opinion mattered to me it could even hurt my feelings, but that’s still something coming into me from outside, right?”

Justin looked doubtful. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Ernie continued, “Well, that doesn’t touch me, my spiritual self, I mean. Because it comes out from him, that’s his problem, not mine. What comes in even if it did hurt my feelings couldn’t hurt the true me. But if I get mad, hate him, or try to get even, that comes out of me. Those reactions would be because I had allowed a lot of crappy stuff to fester inside of me, and would hurt me spiritually.”

Justin had become so incredulous that he was finally calm. “Well, that might seem logical to you, but I’m not so sure, and I know I don’t see it that way.”

“I’m sorry,” said Ernie.

Matt looked at Ernie, confused, “Sorry about what?”

“Just sorry he doesn’t get it,” said Ernie.

Matt seemed satisfied.

“Well, here’s my street,” said Ernie. “I’ll see you in the morning at the school.”

“You may as well walk in with us if you don’t mind an early start,” Matt quickly offered. “But, Justin doesn’t want to miss a second of camp.”

“Sure, thanks,” Ernie accepted. “Early isn’t a problem. What time do you guys start?”

“About 8:30,” said Justin.

“Ok, I’ll meet you here,” Ernie called over his shoulder as he turned toward his house.

As they continued home Justin couldn’t help bringing up the talk they’d had again. “What do you think of what Ernie said about Brandon and Todd?”

“I don’t know,” said Matt. “It seems a little weird, but I guess it’s his business.”

“Yeah,” Justin agreed. “I’ve been his friend for a while, and I always knew he was weird about some things. But I never would have dreamed up anything as strange as this one. I mean, can you imagine just not even caring about a whole gym full of guys thinking that you’re a complete wuss? Or just letting a couple of jerks walk all over you like that?”

“Well, not really,” Matt admitted. “But he seemed sure about what he said, and isn’t it better, after all, if he isn’t bothered?”

“I don’t know,” Justin said skeptically. “He’s my friend. If he lets those guys walk all over him, what will everyone think, even about me? And maybe I should try and help him out.”

“What do you mean, ‘help him out?’” asked Matt warily.

“I’m not sure,” Justin answered. “I’m going to have to think this over some. Hey, do you want to practice together this afternoon? ”

“Sure,” Matt agreed. “Want to come over after lunch?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” said Justin.

They were now nearing Matt’s street. “Ok see ya later,” he said as he turned up his street with a wave and sprinted toward his house.

For the rest of the day Justin was engrossed in the basketball drills he’d been taught, but even when he and Matt practiced there was a nagging at the back of his mind, as if he was trying to remember something. Later when he was in bed trying to stop the review of the drills that was going on in his head, so he could sleep and be ready for another day of camp, it came back to him. Those jerks who teased Ernie. He would have to do something about that, but what? Ernie seemed so convinced in his thinking. How could Justin make him see how wrong the situation was, and that they couldn’t just ignore it? That would be letting them get away with it and that wasn’t right. Then Justin realized how tired he was, body and mind, and knew he’d have to solve the problem another day because sleep was taking over.

Tuesday morning as they all walked together to the school Justin said, “Hey Ernie, I forgot to ask you something yesterday. Could I borrow those notes I saw you taking? I didn’t think to bring paper and they went over so much, I’m not sure I remember it all.”

“No problem,” answered Ernie. “As a matter of fact, I typed it into my computer last night. I’ll just print you a copy. I can bring it tomorrow or you can stop by after camp today if you want.”

Just then they saw Matt’s cousin, Andy, approaching from the opposite direction.

Matt called out to her. “Hey, cuz, where are you going so early?”

Justin answered before she reached them. “She’s meeting Shannon. She was up early getting ready. What are you and my little sis getting into today?”

Andy looked surprised. “Didn’t she tell you? We have a job this summer. We’re babysitting an hour and a half every morning for Mrs. Michaels.”

Justin was incredulous. “What? You’re eleven and she’s ten! Mrs. Michaels is going to let you guys watch her kids while she’s gone? I don’t believe it! They’re babies!”

“Well, she is!” snapped Andy defensively. “And we’re perfectly capable, thank you very much. And they are toddlers, not babies. They are one and three years old.”

Matt’s reaction was calmer. “Really, Andy, are you sure you want to take that on? That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“Well,” continued Andy, “if ‘Mr. Big, twelve years old’ would have listened, I was about to explain. I never said Mrs. Michaels was going to leave them with us. She’s landscaping her front yard this summer, and we’re going to keep the girls in the backyard where they have a fence so that she can really work, uninterrupted. And we get to work an hour and a half every day until she gets it all finished. And we’re getting paid seventy cents an hour, that’s $1.05 per day. That’s $5.25 every week.”

Justin fidgeted from side to side and said, “Yeah, we can do the math. Look guys, we had better get going or we’ll be late.”

Andy had forgotten her aggravation at being thought too young in her excitement to tell the details of her job and completely missed Justin’s impatience. “Going to basketball camp?” she asked. “Shannon told me about that.”

Matt answered her. “Yeah, we all are. By the way do you know Ernie, here? He’s in our grade. Ernie, this is my cousin, and Justin’s sister’s best friend, Andrea, but we all call her Andy.”

Ernie noticed Justin beginning to look not only impatient, but also truly desperate to get away. And remembering from the day before how easily Matt could talk on without seeming to notice, he decided to help Justin out. “Very pleased to meet you, Andy. Hope to get to talk to you sometime. But, like Justin says, we had better move or we won’t be there when the summer maintenance crew unlocks the door. Wouldn’t want to miss that, you know.”

Justin gave a sporting laugh at Ernie’s little dig and looked very grateful for the chance to get away. “Well, we do only get two weeks of training and then we’re on our own ‘til tryouts in November. If we get there early, maybe some of those college guys could work with us a little extra.”

Matt caught the hint and agreed, “Good point. We’d better run. See ya, Andy. Good luck with the little people.”

The boys hurried on to the school and into the gym where Justin and Matt began practicing the drills they’d been taught the day before, and Ernie retired to the bleachers with a book he’d produced from his backpack.

Fifteen minutes later more boys began coming in and Justin and Matt joined Ernie on the bleachers. Brandon and Todd were among the last to arrive. Justin noticed that Brandon searched them out and then whispered to Todd while jerking his head in their direction. Todd then looked at them too and nodded laughing. Ernie was busy listening to Matt tell about something that had happened to him the summer before on an overnight fishing trip, and neither had noticed Brandon or Todd at all. Before Justin could break in and say something, the coaches walked in and began calling them onto the floor to position them for another drill. This one, they explained, would emphasize passing from the chest. Justin was immediately absorbed in the instruction, everything else forgotten.

Justin watched as two of the trainers demonstrated what to do. Both started near the center court line. While moving in a prescribed path on one half of the floor one dribbled a ball, pivoting, turning and changing hands at certain points on the floor. The other trainer followed a mirror image of the pattern on the other side of the floor executing some of the footwork drills as he moved past the signal points on the floor. When they had worked their way near the basket the trainer with the ball made a chest pass to the other and they crossed paths to continue, each doing now what the other had just done. The coach let them continue to run the drill as he explained it for a couple of moments giving the boys time to memorize what to do at each point on the floor. It wasn’t that hard because he had wisely kept the individual moves in the same order that he had taught them to the boys the day before, so that it was sort of like combining all the drills into a huge one. Then the coach and the assistant began adding the boys to the rotation at opposite corners of the gym. Justin was disappointed at first because they kept him and a few others out of the drill for a couple of extra minutes. Then, however, they began pulling guys out and replacing them with those they had reserved.

Only as they worked the drill did Justin realize the reason for this. The boys became familiar with each other’s faces and abilities, because with the way the coaches were moving them in and out, you eventually passed or received with every participant, before you encountered the same player again. Justin, enjoying the fast pace and already looking forward to tryouts, was evaluating the others in terms of better or worse than him. He was just getting a good rhythm going when Todd threw him a hard pass about a foot and half off center. Justin lunged, lost balance, and barely recovered after just managing to retrieve the aberrant ball. As he pivoted to move back into the drill formation he looked up, prepared to say, “That’s ok,” to Todd. When his eyes met Todd’s, however, he was confronted with an arrogant smirk instead of the look of apology he’d expected. Todd had apparently thrown the bad pass on purpose, just to aggravate him. Justin was furious. And then his anger took a suspicious turn. What if Todd had actually been trying to make him look bad to the coaches? So far his mind had been occupied only with doing his best in order to be good enough to make the team. Now it occurred to him that some might find it easier to make others look bad than to improve themselves. He was so worked up and distracted that he executed his next two dribbling exercises rather poorly. Then, realizing that if his suspicions proved true, that could be icing for Todd, he forced himself to calm down and concentrate. After a couple more turns his body was back in sync with the drill. His brain kept careful track of the drill, but in the back of his mind he contemplated the discovery of Todd’s possible treachery. He was obviously hostile toward Justin. Was it only personal dislike, or was he trying to blow Justin’s chances at making the team? Would Todd even make that distinction?

After a few more minutes of the drill the coaches taught them one more group drill and two more individual exercises. Justin became engrossed in the practice again, but also stayed aware of both Brandon and Todd and their locations. And although he watched them warily any time they were participating with him or in his vicinity, the rest of the morning passed without incident. The highlight of Justin’s day was when one of the college assistants worked with him individually for a few minutes and told him that he was really progressing well.

When they were dismissed the three friends started towards home together. They walked in silence for a few minutes, mostly to catch their breath. Practice had ended with a set of ‘killer drills’, which were just a time tested and not very inventive way of having basketball players spend several minutes running as hard as they could. Justin was also waiting until they were away from anyone else so that he could tell the other two what had happened with Todd and his suspicions.

When they were finally alone walking down School Street and all three were breathing comfortably again Justin said, “You guys aren’t going to believe this, but I think Todd was deliberately trying to make me look bad today.”

“What? What do you mean?” Matt asked in a calm but serious tone.

Justin related the entire incident while the other two listened intently.

Matt whistled lowly. “Are you sure, Justin? ‘Cause, that would be bad.”

Ernie didn’t seem to want to believe it either. “Yes, Justin, are you really certain? I mean it could have been an accident. And you may still be reacting to what happened yesterday.”

“I really wish I was,” Justin admitted. “But the look on his face left no doubt. Let’s all just be on our guard for the next couple of days and we’ll see.”

They walked on for a bit in silence and seemed to reach Ernie’s street more quickly than the day before, consumed as they were with their thoughts. The mood remained somber for the rest of the walk, and when they came to Matt’s street they had no more to say than a quick ‘see ya later’.

Only when Justin stepped through his own back door did he realize that he’d been so preoccupied with the problem with Todd that he’d forgotten to stop and get a copy of Ernie’s notes. And he really felt like practicing after lunch instead of going over to get them. He thought just moving and sweating for a while would make him feel better, and there was also the fact that he felt he hadn’t done as well at the gym as he could have because his attention had been divided. He really wanted to practice all afternoon. So when could he get the notes? He didn’t want to invite himself over in the evening when both Ernie’s parents were sure to be there. That seemed presumptuous. He decided he would wait until the next day to get them. He didn’t need any of the information for a few more days anyway. Still he thought he’d better at least call Ernie and remind him to bring them in the morning.

He poured himself a glass of juice and sat down at the kitchen table next to the phone on the wall. He took a deep breath, leaned back, closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly. Then he took a big mouthful of the cold apple juice and let it trickle slowly down his throat. When it was all gone he felt more relaxed, and he picked up the phone to dial Ernie. Then he realized he didn’t know the number. So he went to the bookshelf under the counter, found the phone book among his mom’s cookbooks and quickly looked up the number. Justin remembered Ernie mentioning that his dad’s first name was Matthew so finding the one on the correct street was easy. The first three numbers were the same as his of course; the last four numbers were 3179. He went back to the phone and looked at the keypad for a moment considering a way to memorize the number. Justin preferred having information in his head and not having to look things up more than once if possible. It only took him a minute to see that when he dialed it he would be describing the beginning of a capital E with his finger. E for Ernie. That taken care of, he dialed the number.

After two rings a woman answered, “Hello?”

“Hello, this is Justin Greene, a friend of Ernie’s from school and basketball camp. Is Ernie there?”

“Oh, yes. Just a minute, please.”

Justin heard Ernie’s mom put down the phone and walk away calling for him. In a moment the phone was picked up again and Ernie said, “Hi, Justin.”

“Hey, Ernie, I called because I forgot to stop in and get a copy of those notes from you. I was wondering if you would bring them in the morning like you suggested?”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll put them in my backpack as soon as I get off the phone so I won’t forget. Just a minute, Justin.” Justin could hear Ernie’s mom talking to him in the background. “Hey, Justin, my mom wants to know if you’d like to come and have dinner with us sometime.”

“Sure, I know my parents wouldn’t mind. When?”

“Let me check.” And after a short pause in which Justin could hear their muted voices, “How about Friday?”

“Sure, that will be fine as long as it’s OK with my parents. I’ll check with them tonight to be sure.”

“Sounds good. OK I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“See you then.”

As Justin hung up the phone Shannon popped into the kitchen and started looking through the cabinets.

“What are you looking for?”

Pulling out an empty jelly jar, “I need something to keep my money in. Mrs. Michaels is going to pay us on a daily basis.”

“So how’s it going? How do you like your summer job?”

“It’s great. Those little girls are so sweet. You would have just melted if you had seen little Lydia trying to help us take care of tiny Anna. She said…”

“Ok, I didn’t ask for a second by second play. Just wondered how it’s going.”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Oh, never mind. You wouldn’t understand anyway. It’s about basketball.”

“While I may not live and breathe basketball, I’m not exactly stupid, you know. There is the remotest chance that I might understand whatever’s wrong.”

“Oh, I know. Sorry, Shannon, I’m just in a crummy mood. But I really don’t feel like talking. I’m just going to go out and practice some. That’ll do more good right now.”

“Ok, but I’m here if you decide you want to tell me about it or anything.”

“Thanks, Shannon,” Justin said as he ruffled her hair, grabbed up his basketball and went out the back door. He did feel better after about an hour and a half of practice and slept well that night.

In Signum

Outside his home Justin furiously chopped firewood. He spent his anger toward Kegan, Gareth and his father on the diminishing pile of logs. An hour of this yielded a neat pyramid of pieces, perfectly sized for use in the fireplace or outdoor oven, as well as a sizable stack of kindling. Justin looked around at the clean yard, dropped his ax, and slumped down against the back wall of his house, his head leaned back, and his eyes closed. The exertion had calmed him both body and mind, but he was no less troubled than when he had left the field. What were Gareth and his father thinking? Kegan had obviously issued a challenge. He had impeached the honor of the whole family. Almost everyone there had interpreted it so. Gareth had always been so slow to anger. It infuriated Justin to think of his best friend’s father accepting such an insult as if nothing had even happened. And it shamed him that Gareth did not challenge his father on this point. Obeying one’s father when commanded or restraining if forbidden was expected, but Gareth could at least contend with him on this point. The sun slipped away unnoticed by Justin, as he drifted into a troubled sleep, to be awakened later by his own father who urged him to come in and eat just as the stars were starting to appear.

In Georgetown

Wednesday morning it was Ernie who was calling Justin. While he was brushing his teeth he heard the phone ring and his mom pick it up. A moment later she called up the stairs, “Justin, phone for you. It’s Ernie.” Justin quickly spit and wiped his mouth on the inside of his shirt collar as he ran down the steps jumping the last three. “Slow down there. You’re not in the gym yet,” his mom said.

“Sorry, mom. Hey, Ernie, Justin here.”

“Hi, Justin. Just wanted to tell you I’m running a little late. I stayed up late finishing off a book and overslept a bit. So I won’t be ready to go in early, but I’ll be there. Just didn’t want to make you guys late waiting on me.”

“Oh, ok. Thanks for letting me know. So I’ll see you there then?”

“Yeah, see you there.”

Justin hung up the phone, grabbed his gym bag and headed out to walk in with Matt. They arrived first as usual and practiced until others started coming in.

Ernie was one of the last to arrive. As he walked toward the gym doors a light blue car pulled up to the curb and the back door opened. Brandon climbed out of the car as Ernie heard a woman’s voice say, “Now don’t forget to ride home with Todd’s mom, honey.”

“Geez, I won’t already,” came Brandon’s irritated reply. Then shutting the door he turned to see Ernie. “Hey, runt, what are you looking at? You want something?”

“Actually, yes,” said Ernie and the shock this gave Brandon was evident. His mouth actually dropped open a bit as he stopped in mid step.

His recovery was quick, though. “What, geek? You want something from me?”

“Well, just to talk to you a minute, since we’re alone. I wouldn’t want to say anything with others around.”

Brandon sneered. “Oh, what? You want to beg me to lay off you? Well, go ahead. This should be good.”

Ernie didn’t seem to notice. “Actually, I just wanted to tell you that the things you say to me don’t really bother me, not the way you probably think they do. I mean I hate what it does to you, but what really concerns me is that Justin and Matt are being singled out as well because of your unexplained animosity toward me. I thought perhaps if you and I talked about things we could get past the problem.”

Brandon began to look uneasy. “If that’s your idea of begging for mercy you’re even weirder than I thought. Save your psychology for your girlfriends, I gotta run. Whatever you’re here for, some of us are here to play basketball.”

And then Brandon did run, into the gym, almost as if he was glad to get away from Ernie. Ernie continued walking in and calmly took his place next to Justin and Matt.

A few seconds later they were all on the floor going through one of the fast paced group warm up drills. Since it was only a warm up the coaches moved off to one side and began looking over some papers on their clipboards. While they weren’t observing Justin heard a loud sneeze and looked around to find Brandon looking meaningfully across the gym at Todd who nodded back. Justin’s guard went up immediately. The drill was bringing Brandon closer to him. He waited tensely expecting Brandon to try something. But then he heard a noise from across the gym and turned to see Ernie sitting on the floor coughing. The coaches had heard the noise too and were looking to see what had happened as well.

“Are you ok, Ernie?” called one of the assistants.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered as he picked up his glasses and stood up to go after the ball that had rolled into a corner.

What had happened? Justin hadn’t seen. Neither had the coaches. He would just have to wait and ask Ernie on the way home.

Still, he continued to keep a wary eye on Brandon and Todd. He noticed that they were still pulling their bad pass routine when they got the chance. They watched the coaches and trainers carefully and only did it when their eyes were averted. Of course after the bad pass there was a slight break in the drill, which would catch the coaches’ attention, but all they saw then was the victim, who was usually one of the better players, fumbling around trying to recover the ball. After seeing this a few times, just as it had happened to him two days before, and observing the resulting smug satisfaction on the faces of Brandon and Todd, he knew he had been right in his suspicions. The more he thought about it the angrier he became, until when the drill was over he was seething.

There was no time to brood, though; the coaches were moving on to the next skills exercises. The boys were taught four more individual drills that day, and in spite of the fact that each one was more intense or complex than the last. Justin picked them up faster and more proficiently every time. He could only guess that the more of them he learned, the easier they became to learn overall. He tried to check his enthusiasm, but he found himself becoming increasingly confident that the instruction and practice were paying off, and that he really had a good shot at making the team, provided he practiced all summer which was a given. Camp was turning out even better than he’d hoped, except for Brandon and Todd. As the boys practiced the drills the gym was filled with the din of 28 basketballs and 56 feet repeatedly hitting the floor. Even over that noise, however, there suddenly came a burst of loud voices through the doors that lead to the hallway as a group entered the front doors of the school. All the coaches and trainers looked in that direction and then headed for the hall. Justin knew why when he caught a glimpse of the head coach and some of the players of the high school team. Justin immediately broke into a sweat of excitement over his sweat of exertion. He never missed a high school game and, even though the players were only a few years older than him, he idolized some of them, and was probably the biggest fan that the coach had as well. He had taken the school to the state tournaments more than half of the time in his career and four the last five years running. His mind raced, wondering why they were at the middle school. Were they interested in the middle school’s potential team? No, why would they be? Could it be possible that they were going to work with the camp some? His head reeled with exciting possibilities. But the next second Brandon’s laugh shattered Justin’s speculations. He glanced around, annoyed, and then, catching his ball, stopped the exercise his body had mechanically continued while his mind had been busy. Todd had just stolen Ernie’s ball and tossed it to Brandon. “Aw, did you drop your ball?” Brandon said drawing out each word as if he was cooing to a baby. Justin bristled, ready to intervene. But the sound of the coaches turning back toward the gym ended the situation. Immediately, Brandon shot Ernie’s ball in his direction and both the bullies resumed the drill. Justin quickly did the same. Ernie sighed with relief and looked around at the other players, obviously trying to remember how the drill went so that he could continue.

When the coaches came through the door the high school group was not with them, and they ended the day’s practice by running quickly through the drills from the day before. All the boys were sweating hard and beginning to slow down before the coaches called them back to the bleachers to give them their practice instructions for the afternoon and evening. Justin listened carefully, but now that he didn’t have to split his concentration with what his body was doing, he also remembered Ernie’s fall at the beginning of practice. He waited impatiently for them to finish speaking so that he could find out what had happened.

Finally they were dismissed. Justin made a beeline for Ernie to ask him about it. “Hey, Ernie what happened when you fell? Are you really ok?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t catch the pass, and it hit me and I fell down. I’m ok, but I’ll be glad when camp is over and I can forget about basketball.”

Matt had just jogged over to them and hadn’t heard what they’d said. “Wow, Justin. I thought you were imagining things yesterday, but I guess you were right about Todd.”

“What do you mean?” asked Justin.

Matt looked surprised. “You didn’t see it?”

“What are you talking about, see what?”

“Well, ask Ernie. I’m talking about Todd knocking him down with that ball.”

Justin looked at Ernie expectantly. “You said you fell.”

“I did fall.”

“You fell alright,” said Matt, “when Todd knocked you down with the ball.”

“I wasn’t watching,” Ernie maintained. “I didn’t see the pass coming.”

“Well, I was watching,” said Matt, “and you didn’t see the pass coming because Todd waited until you weren’t looking and then fired it at you on purpose.”

“How can you be sure of that?” asked Ernie. “I mean it’s not inconceivable that I might miss a pass, you know.” But even he didn’t sound convinced.

“I’m sure because I saw it happen,” Matt said matter-of-factly, “but if you need proof, I also saw him give Brandon the thumbs up while everyone else was looking at you to see if you were ok.”

“Ok, so I was right about them, and they were doing the bad pass thing again today,” Justin declared. “Now we have to decide how to deal with it.”

Ernie still sounded doubtful. “I don’t know, Justin. I mean it could have been an accident.”

“And what about the sign he gave Brandon,” Justin challenged, “and I heard Brandon sneeze right before it happened. That was probably a signal to do it.”

“I don’t know Justin. People do sneeze, you know. Are you sure you’re not imagining some of this?” Ernie asked, but he was sounding less doubtful and more miserable all the time.

“Hey, guys, do you need something else?” the head coach called across the floor as he picked up a couple of balls and started toward the door to the storage room.

Only then did they realize that they were the only ones left in the gym. They’d been so wrapped up in the new information. Matt was rarely caught without a reply though, and quickly answered in a normal sounding voice. “No, coach, see you tomorrow.”

As they exited the gym any doubts Ernie still had were immediately dispelled and Justin and Matt’s suspicions were confirmed. As soon as the door closed behind them they heard Brandon’s sarcastic voice

“Excuse us for a moment, ladies. Might we have a word with you please?” Todd laughed. Brandon continued, “Have fun today, Ernestine?” As Brandon said this Todd faked a move as if to quickly pass the ball he was spinning in his palms to Ernie.” Ernie flinched and his arms came up. Brandon and Todd laughed.

Matt was the one to speak. Justin was so mad he hadn’t even gotten control of his thoughts, let alone started to form words and Ernie was just waiting. “What’s your problem, Brandon?”

“I don’t got a problem,” Brandon snarled. “It’s you girls who have problems.”

Matt remained calm. “Oh, is that so? And what do you think our problems are?”

“I think, Mr. Honor Roll, that you two think you’re going to make the team and be the big MVP’s. Well, you can forget it, suck ups. We’ll be leading this team. Understand that and you’ll be ok. Don’t understand that and things could get pretty rough for you. So forget kissing up to the coaches with your good grades and your nice manners. Get behind us or get burned. And as for you, Ernie, boy, you don’t even rate our attention. You don’t belong here. We don’t even worry about you really, but you never know what teachers will do. You can’t trust them even if they are coaches. So just stay home from now on. We don’t want them deciding to help you out by putting you on the team out of pity. I mean that could be fun so we’d have you to pick on, especially since it ‘doesn’t bother you’, but we can find someone else for that, and we don’t want a girl like you taking up space in a uniform. There are only so many, you know. Well, I think that about covers it. If there are no questions, you can all skip on home now.”

Justin was boiling now. He had so many things colliding in his head he couldn’t talk for the moment. Ernie looked absolutely miserable. Matt spoke again. “Well, thank you for sharing that, Brandon. I’m sure you don’t pour your heart out like that to just anyone. And though we hate to disappoint you, we’ll see you in the morning, all of us, that is. And we’ll be doing our best to make the team, even start if the coaches think we should, just like we have been the last couple of days. And I don’t think any of us do have anything more to ask or say to you. So we will head home now.” And he turned and calmly started away. Deciding that that was a good enough answer for the moment, Justin nudged the despondent Ernie and they turned to follow Matt.

“Well, let the games begin, then,” Brandon called after them. “One more thing, girls, don’t get any ideas about running tattle tale to the coaches or your mommies. If you do, you’ll really regret it.”

The three walked for a short way in tense silence. Matt and Justin were concentrating on pretending that they weren’t so nervous. Ernie was completely consumed with fighting the desire to turn to see if Brandon and Todd were still behind them. When they got to the edge of the school property he could take it no longer. He peeked quickly over his shoulder and seeing them climbing into a burgundy car, sighed loudly, “There they go. They’re gone. This really reeks. All I wanted to do was survive camp, somehow get through the summer of practice and get cut in the first tryout. That would have satisfied my parents. Now I’ve got this to deal with, and I’m causing trouble for you guys just because you’re my friends. I’ll be honest. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You’ll do just as you planned, of course,” said Matt simply, but the determination on his face was grim.

“And don’t take all the credit for this, yourself,” added Justin, “We’re on their hit list because they consider us a threat, not because we’re friends with you. But you’re right about one thing. What are we going to do?”

“Well, I think we should just go on doing what we would anyway. We shouldn’t change anything on their account,” Matt answered in his ever-practical way. “But there’s no need to try and cross bridges before we get to them. We can just deal with those guys as the need arises.”

Ernie actually groaned. “I don’t want to have to deal with those guys any time.”

Justin finally exploded letting out the tension of the last few moments. “No way, guys. You don’t want to deal with them, Ernie; and you want to wait it out, Matt. You’re missing the fact that these guys need taken down a few notches. What they’re doing is so wrong. They shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this. The need is here. No! We’ve got to figure out a way to put them in their places.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” asked Matt.

“However he suggests we do it, I know I’m not going to like it,” said Ernie.

“Well, I don’t know how anyway, yet,” admitted Justin. “We’re going to have to give this some thought.”

“Well, we can think tonight, but tomorrow we’re going to have to face those guys first thing in the morning,” Ernie acutely observed.

“Yeah right,” mused Justin. “Well, let’s all sleep on it tonight. I’m sure in the morning we’ll have something.”

In the morning they had nothing.

As the three walked to school Justin looked cross, Matt looked glum, and Ernie looked miserable. As they neared the gym their moods intensified but didn’t change. They had talked little, mostly only to establish that none of them had come up with a plan to solve their problem. When they stepped onto the school lot Justin said, “Well, for now we’ll have to go with Matt’s plan and just take things as they come.” Ernie just groaned under his breath.

When they reached the gym doors none of them hesitated, but Ernie heaved a great sigh unintentionally revealing what an effort it required of him. As they entered all three automatically looked for Brandon and Todd. And when they found them they saw that the two had definitely been waiting and watching for them, and now regarded them with a look of determined malice. The three friends, even Ernie, met them with calm determined faces as they walked to their usual place on the bleachers and sat down. Now that they had thrown down the gauntlet much of the tension they had felt disappeared. It was even more of a relief when the coaches came in and started them on drills. Working their bodies as hard as they could gave their minds a break somehow. The more they sweated the less tense they felt. And although the boys remained wary when any part of the exercises brought them in close proximity with Brandon or Todd, nothing happened. As a matter of fact Brandon and Todd didn’t even make eye contact when passing to them or receiving from them. Justin didn’t know whether to take this as a good or bad sign. He realized that they had called Brandon’s bluff. Could it have been that easy? Had he folded? Or was he just waiting to make his next move? And if so, what would it be? Even though they were still partly preoccupied, both Matt and Justin were in good form and did very well at everything the coaches had planned for the day. Matt especially caught on very quickly to a combination involving a fake drive then a bounce pass for a lay-up. Not only was the assistant who taught his group the move impressed, even the head coach noticed and called across the floor to compliment him.

Toward the end of the practice the coach had them go through a series of individual drills that they had learned earlier in the week. The boys spread out on the floor and each worked the drills as the coach called them out while the coaches and assistants watched. Justin enjoyed these but he was starting to get exhausted. The coaches had seemed to work them harder today. He was really glad when the coach finally blew the whistle and dismissed them. He jogged instead of ran to the bleachers to meet up with Matt and Ernie and get his bag. The three exchanged a meaningful look as they collected their things and turned to walk out of the gym. They tried to locate Brandon and Todd without seeming to look for them. After they had almost crossed the gym floor they looked at each other again perplexed. Then they took one more look around not even bothering to hide the fact that they were searching the group of departing boys, but Brandon and Todd were not among them. How had they gotten out of there so quickly? They looked at each other again, each one trying to weigh this in his mind. Ernie was the first to speak. “What does this mean?”

Matt answered him. “I don’t know. But come on. We can’t just stand here in the gym. Let’s go.”

Justin knew Matt was right, but he hated walking along blindly, not knowing when or from where the next move was coming. “Ok,” he said, “but don’t let your guards down, guys. We don’t want to be relaxed if they haven’t given up.”

Ernie laughed feebly, “Don’t worry, I don’t know when I’ll be able to relax again.” They all started again for the door and were almost the last ones out. They continued across the parking lot and started down the street, walking in silence with their faces forward, but scanning everywhere constantly with their eyes.

As they passed the library they walked shoulder to shoulder on the wide sidewalk between the lawn and a row of cars parked on the curb. Just as they neared the perimeter of the library property and the last of the parked vehicles, they passed a van. Justin was nearest to the street and therefore the first to catch sight of Brandon and Todd who had been waiting, leaning on the back of the parked van. At the same instant that he perceived them though, Brandon spoke. “Here at last. We were getting tired of waiting.” Matt and Ernie were caught off guard by the voice and looked quickly over their shoulders. Then all three turned to face their tormentors. Matt, rarely caught at a loss for words even when surprised, replied. “Well, you could have gone home to rest, you know.”

Suddenly angry, Brandon pushed away from the van with the foot he had rested on the bumper behind him, “Wait your turn. You first, miss,” stepping directly in front of Ernie. “I thought I told you to stay home today.” Strangely, Ernie seemed calmer now than he had a few moments earlier. He looked more grim than scared and returned Brandon’s stare, but didn’t speak. This seemed to unnerve Brandon a little but he quickly rallied. “Ok, I don’t have time to waste on you. Your brown nosing, mouthy friend needs my attention today, too. So I’m gonna make this quick and painful.” Todd chuckled at this as Brandon pulled back his arm and aimed a haymaker at Ernie. Ernie had no experience with fighting and didn’t even have time to duck. Luckily for Ernie, if not for himself, Matt had been in a row or two, and jumped in between them intending to block the punch with his arm. Unfortunately his arm caught on the strap of his gym bag, which he had tried to drop, and he ended up blocking the punch with his face instead. Ernie staggered back looking stunned. Matt looked furiously at the gym bag as he flung it to the ground and turned his glare on Brandon. Brandon quickly shut his gaping mouth and recovered from his surprise at this turn of events, but as he evaluated Matt’s furious face and clenched fists he seemed to decide to return to a verbal approach. He addressed Ernie, but he was looking at Matt warily. “Well, sweetie, I didn’t know your boyfriend was so dedicated.”

Matt was the one to answer, and his voice sounded restrained. “I’m not feeling too chatty right now, Brandon. Are we done here or do you have something else to take up with me?”

Something in Matt’s tone had a definite effect on Brandon. His voice wavered slightly and he began backing away as he said, “No, I think I’ve made enough of an impression on you today. But watch yourself. You were a little too outgoing at camp today. Let’s go, Todd. We’ve wasted enough of our time on these losers today.” With that he turned to go and Todd, looking a little surprised, turned to follow him quickly. Justin, Matt and Ernie watched them until they passed the library and turned the corner before looking at each other or speaking.

Ernie broke the silence. “That eye is swelling pretty quickly, Matt. We ought to go straight to my house and get some ice on it.”

“Yeah, and then decide how to put an end to this. I think we’re the ones who’ve wasted too much time,” added Justin.

Matt picked up his bag and they turned and continued toward Ernie’s house. Luckily his mom wasn’t at home. They found a note as they walked through the door that told Ernie she’d gone to run errands and go to the store to get some things for his friend’s visit the next day. “Boy, am I glad of that,” he sighed as he tossed his things on the table and headed for the refrigerator. “She says she won’t be home for another hour. I dread telling her about this whole mess.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” asked Matt. “We could have gone on to my house. It’s not like I’m going to be able to keep it from my mom.”

“Because my house is closer and the sooner we get that iced the less subcutaneous bleeding there will be,” answered Ernie handing him the ice pack he’d taken from the freezer and wrapped in a clean dishcloth. “Would you guys like something to drink?”

“Yeah, I could really use something,” replied Matt gingerly placing the ice pack over his eye.”

“Ok, already! Enough nursing and hosting,” erupted Justin. “We’ve got to decide how to settle this thing. Matt, I think we can go after them tomorrow after camp and take care of it pretty quickly with only a few punches.”

Matt looked at Justin with his good eye. “After my mom and dad get a load of me this evening, I’ll be lucky if I’m not grounded and getting chauffeured to and from camp for the next few days. Besides, it’s not my policy to go looking for fights or I could have had one today.”

“I agree with Matt on that point,” interjected Ernie as he handed Matt a cold can of Coke and held one out in Justin’s direction. “It’s not right to go looking to start a fight.”

“Excuse me, but were you guys there today?” Justin asked sarcastically, pushing away the Coke and becoming even more annoyed. “The fight has already started. He threw the first punch. Now the ball’s in our court. Are we just going to stand here and take it or what? He calls us girls. Is that what we are? The two of us could settle this, Matt. I could tell by the way he acted today that we could take them.”

“Maybe so, Justin,” admitted Matt. “I’m not afraid. But I just don’t know if it’s the smart way to handle this.”

“Or the right way,” Ernie muttered looking at the floor.

“Is it right to come home from basketball camp with a black eye?” challenged Justin.

“I don’t know, Justin. But I’ve had black eyes before. It’s not like he killed someone. And I wasn’t kidding about me maybe getting grounded. My mom and dad aren’t going to be thrilled about this.”

Justin wasn’t deterred. “I think we can avoid that if we’re careful to put exactly the right spin on the story.”

“Well, spin isn’t my forte,” asserted Matt. “I usually just tell it straight. It’s easier.”

“And right,” Ernie added quietly.

“I don’t mean lie,” Justin countered, “just emphasize that what Matt did was the right thing, even though the outcome seems bad.”

“Well, we may as well get it over with,” Matt said, “but you don’t really have to help me tell my mom. I mean this thing is my problem, guys.”

“No,” said Justin firmly, “we’re in this together. Isn’t that right, Ernie?”

“Yes, Matt, I do agree with Justin on that point. And though I don’t consider it spin, I’d like your parents to know that you got into this trying to help me, and that I appreciate it.”

Matt put down the ice pack, picked up his drink and said, “Well, let’s go then. I don’t like putting things off.”

A few minutes later they all tossed their empty cans into the trash as they passed through Matt’s garage. As they opened the door they heard Matt’s mom in the kitchen. “Matt, you’re late, sweetie, your soup is as cold as your sandwich.”

“Sorry, mom,” Matt said looking at his friends, “ran into a little, uh, trouble on the way home.”

“What?” Her voice had changed in an instant, and they heard her coming toward the entryway. “What do you mean by trouble?” Then as she rounded the corner, “Matta! What happened to you? Come in here to the window so that I can see how bad it is. Were you two in on this, Justin? You haven’t even introduced me to your friend. Tell me what happened. Now.”

Seizing a break in his mom’s speech Matt said, “Mom, this is Ernie. He goes to school with us and he’s in basketball camp with us. He lives over on Elm Street.”

Mrs. Fisher gave Ernie a quick, tight smile as she nodded at him. “It’s very nice to meet you, Ernie. Now, Matt, what happened?” She turned his head toward the window and inspected his eye, then went to the freezer.

“We already did that,” complained Matt as his mom handed him a package of frozen peas and a dishcloth. She frowned and he sighed in exasperation, placed it on his eye and began. “Well, mom, there are these two guys—”

Ernie quickly cut in, “Ma’am, if you don’t mind and if Matt will excuse the interruption, could I please explain how he got the black eye?” Matt’s mother looked a little surprised, but Matt shrugged so Ernie continued. “As Matt was about to tell you, ma’am, there are two boys attending camp who have been trying to intimidate us. I feel it is mostly on my account. I’m not at all athletically inclined, and for some reason this has caused these boys to have great animosity toward me. Because Matt and Justin have befriended me they too, are now being singled out.”

“That’s not right, Ernie,” Matt said in an agitated voice, “they don’t like us because they think we pose a threat to their superiority on the team.”

“That is part of it, Matt. But that has nothing to do with the black eye which is, I believe, what interests your mother most right now.”

“Very much so. Someone please continue,” said Mrs. Fisher very firmly.

Ernie did. “Well, we were walking home today together and these guys were waiting for me, or us. At any rate the one began to slander me. I’m sorry but I won’t repeat it for you ma’am. Suffice it to say it was rude and then he attempted to hit me. He was talking to me and tried to hit me, and neither Matt nor Justin can honestly deny that.”

Matt’s mom looked quickly at Justin and then steadily at Matt, who looked miserably resigned about the way Ernie was telling this, but said nothing immediately.

“Well, ma’am, I am not a fighter by any stretch of the imagination, and would probably have been knocked flat by that punch had it hit me. But Matt reacted quickly and tried to step in and block it. However, the arm he intended to use got caught on his gym bag and he couldn’t get it up in time. The fist landed as you see it. The guy mouthed off a little more but then left. I don’t think he wanted to deal with Matt any more. That’s pretty much it.”

“Is that true, Matt?” asked his mom much calmer now.

“Well, strictly speaking, yes. But, mom, I just want to say it’s not just Ernie’s problem. We’re, I mean, I’m not looking for trouble but these guys are. I don’t know what might happen. They’ve got it in for me and Justin just as bad as Ernie.”

“Ok, Matta,” she said ruffling his hair as if he was a toddler. “We don’t have to talk any more about it until your dad gets home. I don’t suppose it’s accidental that none of you have mentioned the names of these mystery bullies.” She was answered with a respectful but determined silence. “Right. Well, do you guys want some lunch?”

They all realized that the ordeal, now that it was over, had given them ravenous appetites and it felt great to concentrate on the delicious ham sandwiches, potato salad and chocolate milk that Matt’s mom produced from the fridge. The cold soup she pushed to the back of the stove saying it could be warmed up later. Matt’s mom was the kind of cook who didn’t scrimp on anything, and wouldn’t let taste suffer for the sake of making it healthier. The ham was sliced thick, as was the cheese and nutty wheat bread and there was plenty of mayonnaise or mustard and lettuce, tomato, and pickle, if they liked. The potato salad was creamy and heavy on the eggs, and the chocolate milk the way she mixed it with whole milk and plenty of syrup was almost as good as a milkshake. She’d flipped on a little counter top TV to the cartoon channel before she’d started getting their lunch, so they ate in happy silence except for occasional laughs muffled by stuffed mouths. When they’d devoured the last morsel and the cartoon ended, Matt stood up and began stacking the dishes in the sink.

Ernie said, “Wow, Matt, you’re lucky. My mom’s not a bad cook, but it’s usually a bit too healthy if you know what I mean. That was great. Thanks.”

“Yeah, where did your mom go?” asked Justin as he turned off the TV. “We should thank her before we leave.”

“I’m not sure,” Matt answered, “but I’m gonna thank her too. I feel a hundred percent better with a full stomach.”

“Well, I do too,” Justin admitted, “even if we are still in the same fix.”

“I hope you don’t want us to talk about this more right now, Justin,” said Ernie. “I’ve had enough of it for one day. And I imagine Matt really has. If any of us would happen to come up with anything, it could surely wait until tomorrow.”

“You’re right,” said Justin. “And I guess I better get home, anyway.”

“Yeah, me too,” agreed Ernie. “My mom should be in soon.”

“Wait,” said Matt, “I’ll go with you, or you too Justin. We’re in this together.”

“No,” said Ernie, “to be honest, I haven’t decided whether or not to tell them everything yet. There are some things I think I should deal with myself, and I’m not sure they could handle being informed without getting involved.”

“Want me to go with you, Justin? I’ll just tell my mom where I’m going.”

“No, but thanks. I know I have to tell my parents before Sunday when they’ll see your shiner at church, but I’m not looking forward to it, and I think I’ll at least wait ’til after camp tomorrow. Then they’ll have the weekend to cool off in case they decide to talk to the coach or anything.”

“You sure, man? I don’t mind at all coming along,” Matt offered again.

“No, I’m sure. And hey, don’t forget to tell your mom we said thanks for lunch. It was great.”

“Ok, see you guys tomorrow,” said Matt.

Justin and Ernie headed home.

In Signum

When Justin awoke the next morning his mind was calm with resolve. After washing and dressing he sat stoically and ate almost twice as many of the corn cakes as he usually did at breakfast. “Whatever is occupying you so has had no effect on your appetite,” his mother commented. He gave her a benign smile but did not volunteer an explanation. His father just watched him quietly until he rose to leave, then followed him outside.

“Is it Kegan and Gareth that you are mulling over?” he asked. Justin’s lips tightened, but when he did not answer his father continued. “It is none of your concern, you know. Besides, there are only a few who disagree with Gareth’s father, and they are not known for their reason.”

“I am going to go and talk to Gareth.”

“Will you be back for the midday meal? I will tell your mother.”

“No, but I will be back early in the evening.”

“Justin…” his father sighed heavily.

“I will be back this evening, father,” Justin repeated and turned to leave. His father watched him go with a sad and slightly grim expression.

The midmorning sun shone brightly all around as Justin walked the familiar road that took him to the house of his best friend. His earliest, hazy, memories were of the two of them playing together. The sound of their mothers’ voices and laughter was like joyful music in the back ground. Gareth was the closest friend Justin had ever had. Justin’s older brother had always seemed barely present to him, and had married and left home early when Justin had been only seven. The distance between them hadn’t lessened even as Justin had grown, and visits from him and his wife had, for Justin, always seemed a bit formal, sometimes even strained. But time with Gareth, in either home, had always been naturally easy. Thinking of this still filled him with momentary peace.

Why did things have to get so confusing as they became men? It was because of men like Kegan, who didn’t care what was fair or right. One had to deal with his kind in ways they understood. This time it would require Gareth to meet him in combat. Justin would have to make Gareth see that even if his father never did. Again he thought of when he was young, when his mother would walk him along this same road to spend the day with Gareth while the women worked together. If the work took longer than expected he and Gareth would fall asleep in the floor by the fire and Justin would be carried home by his father who would come to see him and his mother home. He could remember rousing as his father shifted him from one shoulder to another and seeing the brilliant stars in the pitch black sky. He would then drift quickly back to sleep listening to the sound of his mother’s voice telling his father of her day. He knew that by the time he returned home on this day his mother would have heard from Gareth’s mother, or someone else, about the events yesterday in the pasture, and he would have to face her sad, reproachful gaze; for she would have also talked to his father about it, and would have guessed Justin’s view of the matter just as quickly as he had. She wouldn’t say a lot. She would stand and look at him and try and think how to convince him to take a peaceful path. But sixteen years of living with him had taught her how stubborn he was, and how nearly impossible it was to make him see from a different angle anything he felt strongly about. While these thoughts nagged at him, they had no true bearing on him. He never doubted that Kegan must be put in his place. It wasn’t an enviable task, but justice demanded it. Justin shook these thoughts from his head as he turned his feet from the road and onto the lane that led only to Gareth’s home. He instead forced himself to relive the poaching in his head. He wanted to have all the facts fresh in his mind when he made his arguments to Gareth.

In Georgetown

The first thing Justin said when they were together Friday morning was, “Well, what happened after we left yesterday? How did your parents act when we were gone?”

“Well, thanks to the spin doctor here, I’m not grounded, but who knows what will happen today.”

This seemed to satisfy Justin. “Well, I say we force their hand. The more I thought about it last night the more convinced I became that Brandon was having doubts about taking us head on.”

As he stared moodily ahead mentally hashing on the problem, Justin became slowly aware that Shannon and Andy were walking about a half a block in front of them. Even though he was preoccupied he was also curious about his sister’s business. “Hey, Shannon,” he called, “what are you two doing out so early?”

The girls turned when they heard his voice and waited for the boys to catch up. When they got close Shannon answered, “We’re working early this morning. The girls have to go for a checkup and shots later so we can’t be there at our regular time. What happened to your eye Matt?” The group continued on together.

“Oh, just ran into a little trouble yesterday. So how is your summer job going?” Matt asked obviously changing the subject.

“Great,” answered Andy who was also looking intently at Matt’s black eye, “The little girls are so sweet and cute. It actually seems weird to be getting paid for just showing up and playing with them when it’s so much fun.”

“Well, I think that’s more or less the staple of babysitting activity,” observed Ernie as he kept the conversation on the girls’ affairs and not theirs, “but I think you’re overlooking your more passive function of simply supervising. Someone has to be there in the event that they come up with some toddler-sized idea that would result in disaster. And too, I’m sure you’re attending to details like trips to the bathroom and drinks of water. I’m sure you’re giving Mrs. Michaels a lot of time she wouldn’t otherwise have.”

“Well, that is true, and that’s why she hired us,” Shannon admitted, “but it’s definitely the most fun I’ve ever had making money.”

“I’m glad to hear it’s going so well,” said Matt.

“Well, here’s where we turn off,” said Andy, “See you guys later.”

“All right, have fun,” Matt called after the girls as they headed down the street on which the Michaelses lived.

The boys made the rest of the trip to the school in thoughtful silence. When they entered the gym Justin looked around for Brandon and Todd and tried to be obvious about it, but they weren’t to be found. They didn’t come in until the coach blew the whistle to get the players attention. And all through practice it seemed that the two bullies were actually purposely avoiding the three friends. No eye contact, no pranks, no interaction whatsoever. Justin became even more certain that they should confront Brandon and Todd as soon as practice was over. He felt they should act while the advantage was theirs. Of course since they were all on the gym floor working as hard as they could just to keep up with the drills the coaches kept firing at them, he had no opportunity to convince Matt or Ernie of the need for immediate action. As a matter of fact, he didn’t get to speak to them at all. He had noticed that the days had gotten more intense and fast paced as the week progressed. When the coach blew the whistle to stop and make closing announcements Justin quickly looked around to locate his friends. They were both in the corner of the floor nearest the storage room. As soon as the coach dismissed them he jogged over to talk to them. “I know we should confront them, guys. Have you noticed how they’re avoiding us? We should strike now when we have the advantage.”

“I did notice them avoiding us,” Matt observed. “I guess we wouldn’t have to say much. We could just make sure we’re near them and see what happens.”

“I don’t like this,” Ernie muttered under his breath.

Justin didn’t seem to hear Ernie. “Well, come on or we’ll miss the chance. Let’s go.”

As they started toward the bleachers to grab their bags all three looked around for Brandon and Todd-Justin and Matt with the intention of moving in their direction, Ernie with a wary look. All three realized at about the same moment that the two being sought were already out of the gym. “Crap!” exclaimed Justin, “Let’s hurry up or they’re going to get away. I think they’re avoiding us, and if we have to wait all weekend we might lose our edge.” Justin and Matt sprinted for the bleachers; Ernie’s pace quickened a little.

But then they heard the head coach call out Matt’s name. When they turned to look at him he was motioning for Matt to come back. “What now?” said Justin in an exasperated whisper as Matt jogged back across the gym. As he stood talking with the coach for a couple of minutes Justin and Ernie could see the coach’s face was grim. When Matt turned to rejoin his friends his expression was miserable.

“The eye?” asked Ernie.

“Yeah,” replied Matt, “I’m pretty sure he believed that I wasn’t the one who had been looking for a fight when it happened.”

“Did you tell him who hit you?” Justin asked.

Matt shook his head. “He didn’t even ask. Just talked about how if you get in trouble at school you get benched, and how he can’t afford to depend on players who could let him down like that.”

Justin looked sympathetic but still impatient. “Well, we’ve lost enough time. I doubt we’ll catch them now, but let’s try.”

They all headed for the bleachers again, Ernie bringing up the rear. As Matt reached for his bag Justin grabbed both his and Ernie’s, so as not to have to wait on his lagging friend to get there. But as they lifted them off the bleachers both boys’ faces shifted from impatience to question. They looked at each other and the question slowly morphed into suspicion. They put the bags carefully back onto the bleachers looking at them for a second before doing anything else. Ernie caught up with them. “I’m not in any hurry, but what’s with you guys? One minute you’re sprinting for the door, and the next you’re just standing here staring at your gym bags like you’ve never seen them before.”

“They’re too heavy,” Matt stated simply.

“Well, I didn’t knock myself out today.” stated Ernie. “As a matter of fact, I slack as much as possible, so I’m not tired. I’ll carry them.”

“No, he means they’re heavier than they should be,” explained Justin. “Someone’s put something in them.”

Understanding dawned on Ernie’s face and it became grim. “Well, we may as well look.” He stepped onto the bleachers and unzipped his own bag first. On the top were two empty cottage cheese tubs, which read ‘small curd, 32 oz’. The contents of the tubs had been poured over everything in his bag. “Yes, I suppose you would notice an extra four pounds,” he said, seeming extremely calm under the circumstances. He then opened the other two bags and found the same had been done to each, except that a note was on top of the whole mess in Justin’s bag. It read: Have a nice weekend, ladies. See you on Monday.

Twenty minutes later found them in Justin’s back yard with the water hose, a bucket, and a bottle of dishwashing liquid, working to clean up the mess. Shannon’s cat, Hobo, nibbled leisurely at the pile that they had scooped out with their hands.

Justin was still simmering. Matt had fallen into concentration on the task at hand. Ernie was calm as usual.

Justin spoke, talking to himself as much as to his friends. “This just proves again that they are afraid to face us. Man, I wish we had caught up with them before they got away. I still don’t see how they managed this. They had to sneak up there during practice and do it, or run off the floor and do it right afterwards while the three of us were talking for a minute. And either way how did they sneak in the cottage cheese? We watched them walk in. I don’t think they had it in their pockets.” The last was said with sarcastic venom. He’d been going over these same thoughts ever since they hadn’t been able to find Brandon and Todd and his initial anger had subsided.

Ever logical, Ernie replied, “I imagine they got to the gym early and placed the cottage cheese in the bleachers right behind where we always sit. And really it wouldn’t have been too hard to pull it off. One of them might simply fake a sneeze and cup his hand over his face, tell a nearby coach he had tissues in his bag since he had a cold. Or he could claim to have an inhaler that he needed to use. That would work even better. He’d have reason to sit in the bleachers for a moment, and maybe to bend down a couple of times. Really, one could think of several viable excuses to go to the bleachers for a long enough time to do this, after all it couldn’t have taken very long.”

“Not as long as it’s taking us to clean it up anyway,” put in Matt.

Justin became suddenly impatient with their seemingly indifferent attitude. “I simply don’t understand how you two can be so calm about this!”

Matt answered. “Look, Justin, we’re cheesed too. It’s just that there’s not a lot we can do about it right now except clean it up.”

Ernie had broken into hysterical laughter as soon as Matt began to speak. “Did you hear what you just said? You said we were cheesed.” As he continued convulsing with laughter, the other two had to laugh as well, if not at the unintentional play on words, just because it was so funny to see him laughing so hard. Once they started they couldn’t stop for a couple of minutes, and when they did, even Justin had relaxed.

An hour later found the friends in the shade drinking lemonade while their things, hanging and laying around the yard, dried in the sun. Shannon suddenly appeared from behind the hedge and took in the scene with a confused glance. “If you guys are trying to make some extra money,” she said passing on toward the house, “you might want to consider something besides a yard sale. Nobody’s going to want your old gym bags, battered basketballs or shoes.”

“Ha ha, very funny, sis,” Justin shot after her as she went in the back door.

“Well,” observed Matt, “the only thing we couldn’t save is that book you had with you, Ernie.”

“Yeah, but the bad part is that it wasn’t mine. It was a library book.”

“Oh man,” said Justin, “that means you’ll have to pay for it. And it’s huge and a hardback. That’s not going to be cheap. What was it, anyway? I didn’t notice.”

“It was the entire Chronicles of Narnia in one volume.”

“Never heard of it,” said Matt, “but I’ll help you pay for it. Remember, we’re in this thing together.”

“You’re right, Matt. Sorry Ernie, I wasn’t thinking a minute ago. Find out the cost of the book and we’ll split it three ways.”

“Thanks guys. You don’t have to, you know. And what do you mean you’ve never heard of it, Matt? I’ve read them all like four or five times.”

“That good, huh,” mused Matt. “I’ll have to give it a try, as soon as the library replaces it, that is.”

Ernie chuckled. “I think they have other copies.”

Matt didn’t notice Ernie’s amusement. “Oh well, in that case, I’ll get it next time I’m in there.”

“Yeah, like that’s every other day or so, professor,” teased Justin, picking up a tennis ball that had been under his chair, and lobbing it without force at his friend’s head.

“Well, since you’re out of your funk now, Justin, what do you guys say we get in a little practice?” Matt asked picking up his basketball and passing it to Justin.

“I say that’s a good idea,” Justin replied. “Let’s practice around front while this stuff dries off a little more.”

“I’ll bounce them back in for you when they go out of bounds,” Ernie offered. The rest of the afternoon was spent reviewing the drills they’d learned during the week. Then all three agreed they were in bad need of showers. And both Ernie and Justin had a few things to do before it was time for their visit, so the trio broke up and went to their own homes.

A few hours later found Justin knocking on Ernie’s front door. Ernie’s dad answered the door and Ernie came down into the living room as he was greeting Justin. As the introductions were made Justin couldn’t help noticing that Ernie’s house was different than any he’d ever been in. Instead of paint or wallpaper there was smooth beige cloth on the walls of the living room. And it would seem that Ernie’s mom collected rocks. There were ornate bowls and urns of them on every table, and in one corner there was a little fountain made of stone. The rocks looked very interesting. Justin could have sat down and enjoyed looking through a bowl of them. The furniture was all dark green, and the carpet brown. It all kind of gave the impression of being deep in a forest. After the usual comments on the weather and such, the boys went back to Ernie’s room to wait for dinnertime.

As Justin looked interestedly around, Ernie said, “Thanks for coming to dinner, Justin. My parents are really convinced now that their basketball plan is ‘bringing me out of my shell.’ This visit should keep them off my back for months. They’re finally convinced that I really do have friends.”

“No problem,” Justin replied, “You should have invited me over a couple of months ago, and you might not be in this mess with us. Hey, whatever your mom is cooking smells great.”

“She’s making pizza casserole. She calls it a compromise between taste and good nutrition. And it isn’t bad; you really don’t notice all the vegetables she slips in.”

“Well, the smell is making me really hungry.”

“When it starts to smell this strong we’re about fifteen minutes from tasting it.”

“I think I’ll last that long. Hey, you’ve got the exact same computer system as me.”

“I got it for Christmas last year.”

“Me too,” Justin laughed, “there must have been a good deal on them somewhere. Hey, what’s this old looking book?” Justin removed a medium-sized book with a heavy and ornate cover and binding, but no title printed on the outside, from Ernie’s bookcase. As he turned it over in his hands he noted that the binding was dark brown leather inlaid with different colored gemstones. The design on the front was a yellow and red six-pointed star with small blue, green and white stones that appeared to be bursting from the star. The spine had rows of gems where one would expect to find the author, title and publisher. When he fanned the pages he saw that they were antique looking, more like parchment than printer’s pulp. The words were in a calligrapher’s font, and many of the paragraphs began with large gold-leafed letters.

“Oh, that one?” Ernie asked doubtfully. “Yeah, it’s a, uh…really interesting…well, kind of a far-reaching, um mm, philosophical, sort of time chronicle…sort of.”

“What? A bit of advice, Ernie. Don’t try to write a book report on it. You’ll get an ‘F’. You’ve read it, right?”

Ernie looked a little strange. “Sort of,” he said, but his tone sounded as if he was the one asking the question instead of answering. He hesitated and seemed to be searching Justin’s face for something. “If you want, you can have it.”

“Hey, don’t get carried away. I just wondered what it was. I could borrow it and give it back, if it really is good,” he said running his finger around one of the intricate, swirls cut into the leather that made up the design on the back cover.

Ernie seemed a little distant as he regarded the pure white binding that he saw in Justin’s hand, and said, “Well, whatever, but I can’t use it anymore, I mean I’m finished with it.”

“You’ve read it then?”

“Well, it’s not the sort of book you ‘just read’.”

“Not the sort of book you read? You’re not making much sense, Ernie. Did you like it? Is it good?”

“Well, as far as a story goes, I don’t know, but if you get, um, involved with it, well, ‘like it’ and ‘good’ don’t really work to describe it, but it’s definitely worth the trip,” said Ernie and his voice sounded as if his mind was somewhere else far away.

“You’re freaking me out a little, Ernie. It’s just a book, right?” Ernie kept his eyes on the book instead of meeting Justin’s eyes and didn’t reply. “Well, I guess I’ll give it a try, then,” said Justin starting to get truly uncomfortable.

“Good, I, uh, hope you enjoy it,” Ernie stammered.

Really wanting to change the subject Justin asked, “Hey, what computer games do you have?” They spent a few minutes discussing shortcuts and strategies for their favorite ones until Ernie’s mom called them for dinner.

The casserole, Justin noted, was indeed great. He had seconds after he’d finished his salad, which pleased Ernie’s mom noticeably. There was a really good Jell-O type dessert, of which Justin would have liked seconds. But he decided to ask wouldn’t have been in keeping with good manners. Mentally he made a note to ask his mom to get both recipes sometime. Ernie’s parents were both anxious to talk about basketball camp. Ernie answered them with as much enthusiasm as he could truthfully muster. Justin helped to carry the conversation and take the pressure off his friend by adding lengthy descriptions of the drills and exercises, and the benefits relating to the game that each would give. Since neither of Ernie’s parents had any knowledge of these, and couldn’t participate in the discussion, the boys were soon able to change the subject to safer things without giving any hints about the Brandon and Todd situation.

After dinner Ernie’s dad offered to go out to their driveway and help them practice if they wanted. Both declined saying they really just wanted to take the evening off after the long week, and they talked him into a couple of games of Master Mind instead, which was fun for all three. Ernie and his dad played first, and Justin was to play the winner. The winner both times was Ernie’s dad, but the boys thoroughly enjoyed the challenge in spite of losing. Ernie’s mom appeared from the kitchen at the end of the second game with coffee for herself and Ernie’s dad and hot chocolate for the boys. As they all sat having their drinks Justin and Ernie again had to dance around questions about basketball camp. Justin finished his drink first, and seizing a short lull in the conversation said, “Ernie, if your mom and dad don’t mind excusing us, I really would like to borrow that book we were looking at before I have to leave.”

Ernie’s dad answered, “Not at all. You guys go ahead.”

“Justin, we certainly enjoyed having you visit this evening,” added Ernie’s mom, “You’ll have to come again sometime.”

“Thank you. That would be great,” replied Justin.

“Come on, I’ll get that book for you, Justin,” said Ernie.

When they were back in Ernie’s room he said, “Thanks again for coming over.”

“Hey, thanks for inviting me, I had a good time,” replied Justin.

“And thanks for not mentioning anything about the trouble we’re having with Brandon and Todd, too,” added Ernie.

“Yeah, I’ve got to figure out how to tell my parents tomorrow or it’s going to be a mess when they run into Matt’s mom and dad at church on Sunday,” said Justin glumly. “Well, I really better get going.”

“Ok, oh, here’s the book,” then Ernie’s voice became somewhat pensive, “You know, it could maybe even help with all this.”

“Yeah, right,” Justin said, obviously skeptical, as they walked back down toward the front door. As they passed by the family room Justin thanked Ernie’s parents again for the invitation, and said, “Well, see you on Monday,” to Ernie at the front door.

“Yeah, but let me know if I can help any way before then,” offered Ernie.

“Thanks,” Justin replied solemnly and was off down the street at a jog. Both Matt and Ernie had offered to help him tell his parents about it all. They were the kind of friends to keep, he thought. But the more he thought about it the more he knew that he would do it alone, and that he was tired of worrying about it. He determined to talk to them first thing in the morning, and rehearsed strategies in his head all the way home. None of them seemed the least bit promising of success, and though he made a conscious effort, he was unable to assume anything like a normal good mood before entering his house. Luckily his mom was on the phone and his dad was engrossed in a show, only asking briefly about his visit and visibly losing interest when the commercial break ended, so that Justin was able to retreat to his room to unwind alone before telling them goodnight. He tossed the interesting looking book he’d borrowed onto the window sill beside the head of his bed, and plopped down to try one of the shortcuts Ernie had told him about for one of his favorite computer games. He was soon as engrossed in the game as his dad had been in the TV, and that’s where they both stayed, until his mom ran the bleary eyed pair to bed with a quick goodnight sometime well after midnight.

In Signum

Justin and Gareth sat on either side of the family’s table staring silently at each other. Gareth’s father was in the corner on a low stool mending his shoe. Gareth’s mother sat on a chair near the door cleaning and chopping vegetables. After a while the basket at her feet was empty and the cooking pot on her lap was full. She emptied the peels and stems from her apron back into the basket, gave the silent men a hard look, heaved an exasperated sigh, and stood up. As she carried the basket outside Gareth’s father raised his head from his work and regarded the two young men for a full minute. Finally he spoke. “You two make trouble for yourselves in a world that has trouble enough. Why don’t you let your minds be at peace? When you are old men full of care you’ll know one need not be bothered by a barking dog.” With that he too left the room taking his shoe and stool with him.

As soon as they heard him step off the wooden floored porch Justin opened his mouth to speak. Before he could, however, Gareth said, “I can guess how you’re thinking Justin, but you can save your breath. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t dishonor my father in this matter.”

When he paused Justin began speaking quickly, “Nor would I want you to, Gareth. But you are his eldest son. And given his age and that of Kegan, you may answer the challenge for him without disrespect. Kegan is a man without honor, or understanding of respect, or he would never have spoken as he did to you, let alone to your father. Do you not remember his words at the shelter?” Justin saw Gareth’s face darken angrily as he recalled the insults flung at his father. Sensing his chance Justin continued, “And when I think of his disregard for your father when he was struck, I don’t know what to say, Gareth.” Gareth’s eyes clouded as his head bent forward. Justin went on, “A good man such as your father lying there injured, and Kegan only caring about the cattle he meant to profit by. I do not wonder that even your gentle dad called him a dog just now.”

But then Gareth’s head popped up and his face cleared as he said, “Now I think my dad was just quoting an adage, Justin. I don’t think he really meant to slander Kegan.”

Justin winced. He had gone one step too far and was back where he had started. Why was Gareth’s family so meek? But he quickly tried to salvage his argument. “Of course, I know that, Gareth. I only meant that in saying what he did your father realizes what kind of man Kegan really is. That is why I don’t think he would truly be upset at all if you were to answer the challenge for him.”

But Gareth’s moment of anger was gone. He had completely regained his calm. “No, Justin, my father is at peace with his decision and so am I. Why then should you not be?”

“Why? Because Keegan is wrong and is going to get away with it. It’s not right. He should be punished.”

“Of course he’s wrong, Justin, but we are not judges. The council hasn’t even felt the need to meet about this. Rational men agree with my dad, and are more concerned about how to prevent future raids than Kegan’s rantings…”

Justin felt a mental fog moving in and it seemed that Gareth’s voice grew distant. The tone of it was constant though assuring him that he would not convince Gareth to change his mind and confront Kegan. Justin felt defeated. Suddenly he wanted to be a thousand miles from where he was. He wanted to forget the whole thing and see or talk to no one that he knew.

In Georgetown

 Justin awoke Saturday with the vague feeling that it was not going to be a good day, but he didn’t know why. His mood remained subdued as he climbed out of bed and rummaged through a pile of clothes at the foot of his bed for some jeans. As he stood up to pull them on his aimless glance landed on the strange book he’d borrowed from his friend the evening before. At the sight of the book his late night resolution to tell his parents about the dilemma first thing this morning came rushing back to him. The bad mood that had been hovering over him settled decisively.

Justin took much longer than usual to finish dressing and brushing his teeth. He even washed his face and combed his hair, details he usually enjoyed omitting on Saturdays. When he finally came downstairs and into the kitchen he was glad to see Shannon’s empty cereal bowl in front of her chair. He hadn’t heard her upstairs, and she hadn’t been in the living room or family room when he came through, so she was probably already out, and involved in something with one of her friends. Justin hadn’t relished her presence at this discussion. She would have been extremely comforting, but she might have over-reacted at the same time, an odd combination of emotions he’d noticed that she and her friends were capable of showing each other, that still baffled him a little. He sighed in relief knowing it would be just him and his parents, and proceeded to mechanically pour himself a bowl of cereal and milk. His dad was looking at a newspaper and his mom was browsing a cookbook on the counter and humming. He stared absentmindedly into his bowl as he considered how to begin what he had to say.

Justin didn’t realize that his dad had stopped reading and was watching him until he heard him say, “You might have better luck with that cereal if you had a spoon.”

“Oh, uh, right, sure,” Justin stammered, getting up and going to the silverware drawer.

His mom had stopped humming and looked up curiously at his dad’s comment. Now she studied Justin’s troubled face and asked, “Justin, what’s wrong, sweetie?”

They were both waiting. This was what he had planned to do. So there was nothing to do but go ahead. “Well, I guess I need to tell you guys about something that’s been going on at basketball camp.”

“What is it?” his mom asked. Her mood had completely changed and, he could hear the concern in her tone.

“Well, it’s nothing big, just some guys trying to bully some of the other players,” Justin replied trying to sound casual and matter of fact.

His parents weren’t fooled. “And are you one of these other players that they are trying to bully?” his dad inquired firmly.

“Well, sort of. I haven’t actually had a real run in with them yet like Ernie and Matt. But I’m on their list.” Justin answered.

“All right, Justin, let’s have the whole story. What’s been going on?” his dad demanded quietly and very calmly. Mr. Greene was a man who rarely ever lost his temper, but still he commanded respect and accountability from his family, seemingly without effort. Justin had wondered before why it was like that. He could only figure that because his dad always treated them with honesty and decency, they showed him the same without question. He took a deep breath and told them about the whole ordeal. He didn’t try to rush or explain it away or make excuses. He’d learned over the years that only meant going back over things again, slowly and clearly, until his parents were satisfied that they understood correctly. In a way he appreciated that about his parents. They didn’t jump to conclusions or fly off the handle with punishments like some of his friends’ parents. But in a way it drove him crazy too, when he didn’t want them to know something at all, and yet they had to have every excruciating detail.

The kitchen was quiet for a moment when he finished talking. Then his dad took a deep breath as he stared at the table. His mom was the first to speak. Addressing his dad she said, “Well, do you think they should tell the coach about this? Most of it is happening right there in the gym during camp.”

“They’ve got no proof. And the coach is already concerned about Matt’s black eye. If they all go whining to him about bullies he may start to think they’d be a pain to have on the team.”

Justin avoided his mothers eyes and shot his dad a hopeful glance as he said, “That’s what I told the guys. We have to handle this ourselves.”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘handle’, Justin, but I don’t think the situation requires you to take any action right now. It seems to me that you three are in the uncomfortable position of handling these nuisances as they arise.

“But dad, I just know that they’re a little scared since the run in with Matt. Otherwise why would they mess with our bags next, instead of facing us again? If we go after them now without hesitating we have the advantage. And they are so wrong. Someone needs to take them down. They shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this. It’s just wrong.”

“Lots of things are wrong, Justin,” answered his dad in an even, unemotional tone. “But that doesn’t mean you get to make them right. And, anyway, do you want to put yourself in the place of judge?”

Justin didn’t know how to answer, but then his dad didn’t actually expect him to. Justin didn’t know what conclusion his dad wanted him to come to, but that wasn’t what he cared about anyway. All he wanted was to make Brandon and Todd pay, to put them in their places. At any rate there didn’t seem to be any more to say right now. He sat down and began to eat his cereal, and in a couple of moments conversation in the kitchen had turned to other topics and the atmosphere seemed normal again around Justin. Inside him it was still very dark. He was glad his parents hadn’t overreacted but his problem was still the same, and after the conversation with his parents he just wanted to get his mind off it for a while. He settled in the family room and watched cartoons until lunchtime.

After giving his brain the morning off, and eating two left over burritos and a bowl of ice cream for lunch, Justin was again up to the task of planning a solution to their problem. He called Ernie and Matt and asked if they wanted to practice. In twenty minutes they were at Matt’s house, Justin and Matt running some of the drills in the driveway, while Ernie relaxed on the parked riding mower and reread an article in his latest issue of Popular Mechanix.

After they had practiced until Justin and Matt were winded, Justin broached the subject again with his friends. “Well, guys, I told my parents about our situation this morning.”

Ernie became all ears, immediately lowering his magazine and asking, “So what happened? What did they say?”

Matt too showed instant interest. “Are you in trouble?”

“No. They were pretty calm about it, but they aren’t going to be thrilled when we have to handle this. That’s when they’ll come down on me, but it’ll be taken care of by then, and I’ll just have to take my medicine.”

“But what if they don’t let you on the team?” Ernie inquired thoughtfully.

Justin had never thought of that. He’d imagined severe grounding, which would be no fun at all, but the thought had never occurred to him that they might actually not allow him to play basketball. He was silent for a moment considering this. When he spoke again his voice was a bit subdued but still very serious. “I don’t think they’d go that hard on me. I really don’t. And, anyway, my dad said he didn’t think we needed to do anything right now, but he didn’t actually come right out and tell me not to. So if it comes down to defending our actions, how you tell it can go a long way.”

“I don’t know, Justin. Your dad may not have actually said not to do anything, but I think, we kind of know what he meant,” said Matt in his quiet, matter-of -fact way.

“Yeah, I agree with Matt, Justin. If we have to watch how we tell something that’s just not being entirely honest. And isn’t that just one way of lying?” added Ernie.

“Listen, you two, I’m taking as big a risk as you, and I’m not even the one that got punched in the eye or humiliated in front of a gym full of guys. Now, we can tell it straight or tell it crooked afterward, I don’t really care, but it’s time to bring these jerks down. They’re the ones who are wrong here. We’re right. And somebody’s got to stand up and deal with guys like this or there’s no justice in the world. They just keep on getting away with it. Somebody’s got to call them on it and set things right, and it may not be a fun job, but it’s got to be done, or we just crawl away with our tails between our legs. And I hope you’re not forgetting that they may not go away after five more days. They may end up on the team with us, and then we’ve got them to deal with all the time, and how we handle them now may have a lot to do with what we have to handle then.”

“Well, that may be true, but we’ve got the weekend to think about it and even though you’re ready to act, I don’t think you have a concrete plan, do you?” Matt observed.

“I think it starts with getting them alone and telling them we’re not putting up with it anymore. Then it’s their move, and we back up our position with whatever action is necessary.”

“Well, I still think it sounds very risky for you two,” Ernie spoke up. “I mean I’d be more upset if I made the team than if I didn’t, but you guys want to make it, and trouble like this could cause either your parents or the coach to keep you off the team.”

In the end Matt and Ernie convinced Justin that they’d seriously consider his point of view by Monday morning, if he would in turn give some thought to what they had said, so that all three returned home less content than when they had met.

Sunday morning Justin sat brooding in the early church service. The minister’s voice was like the drone of a housefly on the edge of his consciousness as he mentally hashed on his problem. Someone right ahead of Justin noisily dropped a couple of songbooks and bent over to pick them up. He was suddenly again aware of where he was. He deliberately focused on what the minister was saying, more to see if he was nearing the end of his sermon, than out of any interest in his message. He was reading from Isaiah 59:17 and 18.

“For he put on righteousness as a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on his head; and he put on the garments of vengeance for clothing, and was clad with zeal as a cloak. According to their deeds, accordingly he will repay, fury to his adversaries, recompence to his enemies; to the islands he will repay recompence.”

Idly Justin imagined himself in the role of the one who was zealously vanquishing evil enemies, who in turn took the forms of Brandon and Todd. Clad in the armor of the passage he thrashed the pair as they deserved until they cowered before him. As his attention wandered back into the building he realized that the vengeful one being spoken of was God. But he doubted that God would come down and help with Brandon and Todd, so he resumed his daydream and he didn’t even hear the words on forgiveness that invariably concluded every service.

Later that afternoon Justin practiced in his driveway, vaguely conscious of the fact that the drills they’d been taught were working, and that his skills were definitely improving. But most of his thought was focused on the problem with Brandon and Todd. In a daydream he fantasized about just knocking Brandon’s head right into a wall. In reality it seemed like he was the one beating his head against a wall. The more he had thought about it, the more he saw the truth of what Ernie and Matt had said. Talking to Brandon seemed useless, if not counter productive. Actually punching him would probably only blow his chances at ever making the team. As he went over these frustrating facts for about the hundredth time Shannon and Andy walked up.

“What are you mad about?” asked Andy when she caught a glimpse of Justin’s scowling face.

“Don’t worry about him.” Said Shannon, “He looks like that most of the time these days. I think basketball makes him cranky.”

“Who cares what you think?” replied Justin. Then, as her eyebrows went up and she nodded knowingly to Andy, he realized that he was cranky, and tired of it, himself. He hurled his basketball into a plastic tub inside the garage and stalked into the house determined to find something to get his mind off the whole thing for a while.

In the kitchen he opened the refrigerator and stared unseeing into it for about thirty seconds. Then he closed it and went into the family room. Grabbing the remote and jumping the back of the couch, he landed sitting with his feet on the coffee table and began aimlessly flipping through the channels. But after a couple of minutes Shannon and Andy came in with sandwiches and drinks, and a box of Popsicle sticks, glue and construction paper. They settled in the middle of the floor and began to talk about Mrs. Michaels’s little girls and how they were going to help them make pinwheels Monday morning.

“I can’t watch anything this way,” Justin snapped, turning the TV off and slamming the remote down.

Sorry, Justin,” Andy apologized. “Do you want us to go somewhere else?”

“No, forget it,” he muttered, realizing he didn’t even know what had been on the screen a moment ago. Also realizing he hadn’t yet succeeded in getting his mind off things, he got up and stomped up to his room. He flopped on his bed and stared straight up for a few seconds where spots of softly colored light covered the ceiling. Idly wondering about the colored light he glanced at the window where the evening sun slanted in. On the sill he noticed the strange book he’d borrowed from Ernie. The faceted jewels on the cover were catching the sunlight and throwing it all over the room. “That’s it,” he thought. “It’s hard to read without paying at least some attention. And if you’re paying attention to what you’re reading, you can’t worry about something else.” He also began to remember how much trouble Ernie had had describing the book, and then how strange he’d been at the end of their visit. To think he’d actually suggested that the old book could help their situation. Well, Ernie could be a little weird about things sometimes, and his attitudes were definitely not Justin’s, but his curiosity about the book was definitely building. He shifted and stretched in order to reach the book in the window without getting up. He examined the cover again before opening it. The way the jewels filled with light gave them the appearance of having flames inside. Justin glanced at the light switch across the room and back at the book. There was plenty of light coming in the window to read, even if it was the heavy, golden evening sun. He decided not to get up for the white electric light. He turned past the end pages for the first time to find that the warm light he’d chosen made the pages look creamy and softer than paper should be, almost like fabric. Turning the pages to where the print began he found a strange inscription preceding the actual book. It was in brown ink and looked like calligraphy instead of most printers’ type. He wondered if it had been hand written there by someone who had once had the book. It read:

Be Warned

Upon Turning this Page:

Those who seek a story

Will find one lies herein.

But for those who seek for answers,

An adventure will begin!

“Answers,” Justin thought idly. “If only I could find the answers to my problem in this book. But I seriously doubt it can tell me how to put Brandon and Todd in their places.” With a sigh he turned the next page and read.

In The Book

The fire had reached its peak a few moments ago and was still strong but obviously burning down now instead of gaining in intensity. The songs too had now moved from jubilant to ever so slightly melancholy, but like the fire, they too retained a comforting familiar warmth. The people around the fire played upon instruments, clapped, chanted, and danced to the rhythmic, poetic words.

Be’lobi tzafanti, Be’libi tzafanti

Imratecha le’ma’an lo echta

Baruch atah Adonai, lamdeni chuceicha,

Bes’fatai siparti kol mishpatei picha.

Justin listened with his eyes closed to the tambourine and flute frolicking in the melody.

“Whoa! How strange!” thought Justin. The character in the book had his name. He wasn’t sure he’d ever read a book in which the main character’s name was the same as his. But even stranger was the fact that somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d thought for a moment that he was that other Justin, the one in the book, or maybe he just thought he’d heard some music too, or something. He didn’t exactly know what he thought, but he was getting really tired. He closed his eyes and kept reading.

The flute and the tambourine were Justin’s favorites of the instruments. They seemed to be so carefree and fun. He sat with eyes closed allowing the music the entire space of his mind in which to play. Then he felt his chin touch his collarbone and pulled his head up with a jerk. He opened his eyes to keep himself awake. He had been drifting off to sleep and into a dream where he had sat on a raised bed by a window reading a book in the waning sunlight. He had thought he was about to find some wise answer to a perplexing question in the ornate tome (he wished he could find the answer to his own questions), and the bed had been finely made and covered in fine linens like one would find in the house of a great lord. He sat up straight to further wake himself and looked at the members of Tory’s clan. The dancers and singers were plain people and looked so in their woven cotton tunics and pants. The fabrics were not printed, though often differently dyed fibers were used in the same piece giving them an ordered but pointillistic, colorful effect. They often braided their hair, or tied strands of it, to keep it away from their faces when they worked in their fields and with their herds. All of them were nearly as brown as the soil under their pastures from the long days they spent in the sun. Their eyes seemed very honest when they looked at you and they listened with attention, lacking judgment when spoken to. They carried no weapons though they had many farm tools in their barns and homes, but they did wear beautiful jewelry symbolic of their fealty to their king. The jewelry was well made and intricate, but did not consist only of precious metals and gems, employing also very common and easily found materials like leather and polished wood and stones. The value that they seemed to assign to the pieces did not derive from the material used, but instead from what it represented and how artistically the maker had wrought it. It was the same with their music and dance. Whether simple or complex they appreciated the tone more than the lyric, tune or step. The well-patterned movement of the dance they were doing now suddenly brought his new friend Tory to his side of the fire, and he dropped out and flopped down next to Justin, a little out of breath.

“Why don’t you dance,” Tory asked, “Goodness knows you’re better at it than me. And you’ve been here nearly a month. You shouldn’t be shy by now.”

“But, I’m not better at enjoying it. You love to dance. I like to watch and listen. My clan doesn’t dance and sing as much at campfire. We tell stories more.”

“How short we have fallen then, in amusing you. You’ve stopped with us over a fortnight and haven’t heard a story yet. I will speak with the elders and see if we can’t arrange one. You might even decide to stay on and teach us how to tell them properly. Everyone in the clan accepts you in spite of your aversion to dancing.”

“I don’t know about that, but you could tell me a short one now yourself.”

“What do you mean? I’m no story teller.”

“Well, I’ve been wondering why everyone always defers to this Lord Roth when all your songs speak of allegiance to a great king who lives north of the farthest mountain. We have heard of him by the way. He exists in our myths, but no one has believed in him in time out of remembrance. I assume for the moment however that he is real. Still, Roth treats everyone like animals or worse. I’ve heard the hardships you and the townspeople live with spoken of here among the farmers. The taxes you and the crop farmers pay are enormous. I’ve never heard of anything like it in all of Signum. And I’ve heard how his henchmen live completely above the law. They take what they like in town and assault anyone they please with no consequence. But because they are Roth’s men no one dares challenge them. It is plain to one who looks from the outside how much better your lives would be if you weren’t under his rule. If it’s the king who rules you, why do you put up with Roth? Even without the king’s help, you all could overpower him if you would band together. And why let even that king rule you? He’s so far away. Why not rule yourselves? My clan does, as do many south of the river. The time of the landlords is coming quickly to an end. Can the time of the kings be far behind? Signum will be ruled by those with the strength to do it.”

Tory looked at his new friend and slowly replied, “You don’t ask for a story. You ask for our history.”

“Where I come from they are one and the same.”

“Well, first of all, He does exist and He’s not ‘a great king,’ He’s ‘The Great King.’ He is over every clan, all of us, whether we allow ourselves the benefits of His Rule or not.”

“What benefits does his rule provide? Your people are as poor as mine and they are oppressed by Roth.”

“The benefits are not only in wealth, and you might better call us simple than poor, for none of us can remember ever being without anything we really need. We work for what we have, to be sure, but even in the work there is benefit. We learn from what we do; it is all symbolic in nature, and surely you would call wisdom a treasure. And there is more than that. We are at peace because we know the Spirit of His Laws. You can see that we are a joyful people. And we find comfort and strength, not like Roth’s, but perhaps more satisfying, in these things. And it is The Great King who has taught us to live in this way and to recognize what is truly valuable.”

“Very well, you may not call yourselves poor, but Roth is certainly rich as a result of your labor, and he regards you as less than slaves.”

“We care not for Roth’s opinion. It cannot touch us. Also, you must not forget that The Great King has given us much in the treasures that you may have heard mentioned in our songs.”

“Yes, I had meant to ask you about those as well. But first back to Roth. You may accept the rule of The Great King for the reasons you gave. So be it. Why accept Roth, though? He does nothing for you; in fact, he only makes everything harder as far as I can see. And surely, if you all could agree and unite, you would outnumber him and his men greatly. I’m sure you could overpower them in combat and then you would all be free. My people would have done so long ago.”

We do not think that way. Roth is allowed by The Great King to have his office, so we will respect it, even if it is imperfect. I did hear talk a while back, however, of the elders’ considering an appeal to The Great King over some particularly harsh taxes. They had appealed to Roth first, of course, according to the code, but gotten no satisfactory response.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“Well, as I said, I’m no storyteller, nor am I a historian. Have I explained anything?”

“You have explained some of what I had already guessed. You, and your clan, think and live very differently than me, or my people.

“Well, would it be all right for me to request a story too?” Tory asked.

“How could it be fair otherwise?”

“I don’t possess the wisdom of what is fair and what is not, but that has nothing to do with my question. You have told me since we met that you are on a journey from your people, but you have said nothing of its nature. And though I enjoy your company, I begin to wonder that you don’t continue toward your destination, as you have surely had time to rest and also must know that we will equip you sufficiently for the road.”

“I can understand that you would wonder, but my journey is one of purpose, not place. I have a problem to work out, so it is my thoughts, not my feet, which move me toward my journey’s end. I am very grateful, however, for the hospitality of your people.”

“Do not even speak of that. But, I see now why you are able to spend time here and I am glad for it. I won’t pry into your private affairs.”

“To be truthful, I don’t mind telling you about it, if you want to hear it. It might even help move me toward an answer if I hear it out loud.”

“Go on, then.”

“Well, I have an enemy who has offended one of my friends, but my friend refuses to avenge himself. In fact, he doesn’t even admit the offense. He would let the whole thing go unanswered. I can’t stand to think that our enemy will go unpunished, but it should be my friend or his family who answers the challenge. And they won’t. If I do, won’t that also be an insult to their honor? I don’t know what to do.”

“I suppose to forgive it, as your friend and his family apparently do, would be out of the question.”

“Forgive? Well, I don’t know about that. But I know he should be punished.”

“Do you think you can be the one to meet out just punishment? Wouldn’t it really just be revenge born of pride? And what offense is so great that it troubles you enough to leave your home?”

“We have problems with a rival clan who have been trespassing on our pastures, as well as stealing some of our livestock. One day while my friend and some of his family were on watch over our herds a band of these rode in. My friend and the rest of the watch were not mounted or armed. The watch fought as well as they could and some of us who were nearby came and tried to help. But in the end the poachers made off with several horses and cattle as well as striking down my friend’s dad, though he is fine now. A trouble maker in our clan then insulted my friend’s family honor, called them cowards and weak, and of course, blamed them for the loss of the livestock, which weren’t their own.”

“And your friend’s family?”

“They discounted all he said. They maintain that it was an unfortunate but normal part of clan rivalry. They think anyone can see that what he says is nonsense and therefore his challenge unworthy of serious consideration, much less a response of any kind, word or action. Yet he continues to defame their family name and they do nothing.”

“And you disapprove of this.”

“I wouldn’t care who the person, or what the situation, I wouldn’t let anyone call me a coward or weak. He would know my courage and strength as long as I had breath. But he is not me. He maintains that it is nonsense, unworthy of reaction. And it might not matter so much, but he is my best friend. What can I do? I am losing my best friend.”

“What? You would break friendship with him over this?”

“How can I remain so close to one whom I can’t respect?”

“Well, if I respect you, and I do, I must speak openly. One who punishes should exercise that authority from above himself and should be wise and merciful. Otherwise his justice cannot be true. So I don’t know why you want to put yourself in this place of judging. ”

“You are a good friend to speak this counsel even when you know it could be cause for offense. But there must be a place for action as well, Tory.”

The fire had died as they spoke and the dancers were now seated around the embers singing softly the song that was always the last at the gatherings.

It was in the old language, which Justin could understand even though the words sounded just slightly strange to him, like listening to one speaking with an accent. He had known of the existence of the ancient tongue, but his clan never used it, so he had never heard it until he encountered Tory’s clan. He’d asked Tory about this at the beginning of his visit, and Tory had explained that it had been the language of all the clans before the lords had begun moving in with their men and dividing the lands. This change in rule, he said, had been the result of some people’s continual complaints to the Great King that others were treating them unfairly, and that they needed lords over them to settle the disputes as they arose, rather than having to wait for the King Himself to visit. Then as the clans had less and less contact with each other, their speech began to show differences distinctive to each. Until Justin had met Tory’s people both the Great King and the ancient tongue were the stuff of myth to him. No one in his clan or any of the clans around his gave any thought to either. Now that he had heard it he supposed he had to believe, and in just a few nights Justin had become able to understand it quite well. He still didn’t know what to think of the King. Everything in him and around him seemed to defy the idea that there was some powerful and caring ruler over these people, let alone his own. But when he was at these assemblies the conviction of belief in the singers and dancers was almost contagious and he would catch himself wishing, almost hoping that there was some truth to what he heard. The songs of Tory’s people sung in that tongue had a beautiful ethereal quality that Justin didn’t know whether to attribute to the language or the lyrics or the music or the people, but he never tired of hearing them. The song that always ended the fireside gatherings was one of his favorites, and he was always glad when they sang it over a few times.

Gadol yehawah umhul’al mod ve-ir

Elohaynu har qadsho

Yephay noph mesos kal ha-aretz har tzion

Yarkethay tzaphon qi’ryath melek rav.

Justin slept again that night in the home of Barker, Tory’s father, as he had since they had met two weeks earlier. Tory’s house like all those around it and in the town was of mud daub construction with a thatched roof, and roughly cut and uncovered windows. The bed they provided him was a comfortable mattress of sturdy woven cloth stuffed with dried corn husks. At bedtime after the family retired, Justin would remove the bed from a peg on the wall of the front room where it hung out of the way during the day, and carry it to the barn where he would climb to the loft and lay it just inside the opening, which was in the southern wall. Then he would wrap himself in his blanket and lie down to watch the stars come out until he drifted off. His sleep there had been as restful as any he had ever had in his own home. But this night his rest was not prompt. He lay awake late into the night, gazing out the uncovered window next to his bed, and thinking of his problem. Discussing it with Tory had brought it back to him as if it had happened only yesterday. Justin hadn’t been surprised at Tory’s passive attitude considering that he came from a clan whose men didn’t even mind the tyranny of Roth. Justin liked the gentle people but he could not understand why they put up with such treatment.

As the constellation Adlai, a man sitting straight and leaning a little forward in a high-backed, throne-like chair, climbed to its peak in the night sky, Justin finally drifted into a dream-filled sleep. There he again fought the battle that had begun his trouble, and again argued with his best friend over how to answer the challenge levied against his family. Repeatedly Justin insisted his friend respond to their enemy and offered to stand by him in any fight that ensued. Repeatedly his friend infuriated him by passing it off and insisting that it was all unworthy even of thought, let alone a fight. It seemed to go on forever, Justin growing ever more insane with rage, and his friend getting less and less interested in the whole issue. The argument ended as Justin denounced his friendship with the one who had been closer to him even than his own brother. Although the rending took place in a dream the pain was real, and he thought it couldn’t have hurt more to lose his arm than it did to lose this part of himself. Still the fury in his head and gut wouldn’t subside. He turned and walked away. As he instinctively walked the lane leading away from his friend’s home, the embarrassment, the rage it caused, and the pain of loss brought tears to the spilling point in his eyes. The night darkness was as heavy as a cloak thrown over his head. Still he fought the tears back as though they were the cause of everything that was wrong. Finally as he turned onto the common road in the direction of his own home, he could repress the physical reactions no longer. The anger and hurt churning in his stomach boiled over in tears from his eyes and vomit from his mouth. He leaned heavily on his herdsman’s staff and wretched by the side of the road, his abdomen convulsing again and again, until his empty stomach twisted into a hard knot and hung in his middle, waiting for him to relax so that it could. But he didn’t yet. He felt nothing for the moment. Just then he heard a low chuckle getting louder as a man coming down the road neared him. “I see you have no stomach for cowardice either. You’ve just come from Gareth’s place, am I right?” Justin looked up, his vision still blurred, watery and barely functional in the tangible darkness, to find that it was none other than Kegan who leered at him. Suddenly the numbness left him and feeling returned in one single blinding emotion. He felt nothing but hatred. The tears and vomit, the hurt, loss and anger – none of these were the problem. The problem was standing here, staring and laughing at him. His mind and eyes shared a moment of pure clarity. Yes, here was the problem, and he held in his hand the solution. The accusation against his friend was false and the damage done to his family’s reputation unfair. And yet the only way to rectify it all could mean his friend’s death. It was Kegan who deserved to die. These thoughts went through Justin’s mind in a split second and he didn’t hesitate as he raised his heavy wooden staff and struck Kegan with all his hatred beside his left eye. There was more shock than pain that crossed Kegan’s face as he sunk to the ground. Justin stood looking down at him for a moment, prepared to strike again if need be, but Kegan didn’t move. The one blow had been sufficient. He felt the black night air turn cold against the sweat on his forehead. Then a blue-white light penetrated the suffocating darkness illuminating the form at his feet. He raised his eyes to the sky just in time to see huge dark clouds parting to reveal a star-filled sky. The brightest of all were the blinding stars of Adlai, and as he turned his focus on them they blazed out with a brilliance like the sun at noon. Justin blinked involuntarily but could not look away. The constellation had assumed a real presence. Adlai was moving, as if to rise from his throne, and he was turning his shining face downward to the earth. His entire being was as white hot as the tip of a rod just drawn from a blacksmith’s fire, and as he slowly stood to his full height his form filled the sky from its lofty center to what seemed within inches of the horizon. For a moment Justin’s awe made him forget that he even existed. His entire consciousness was nothing but trying to take in Adlai, who had ceased to be a constellation and was now a real being, but still composed entirely of brilliant light. Then Adlai raised one iridescent leg and set his foot down on the earth. When he did a million sparks flew up as high as the trees and rained down in a sizzling shower of mirror-like fire. One of the sparks glanced off Justin’s hand and the indescribable, burning pain made him remember himself. But when he did he immediately began to tremble with fear and shame. He somehow realized that Adlai knew what he had just done and all else. He also realized how hollow his arguments of defense would sound if he were to try and make them now, even to himself, let alone to the being facing him, and Adlai was undoubtedly regarding him. Justin heard himself say, “I am sorry,” and the very sound of his voice terrified him. Where had he found the courage to speak, and yet he somehow knew an answer was demanded. Then Adlai spoke and his voice sounded like an enormous wave breaking on rocks. “The truth will be known.” Justin felt a calm sickness in his gut. He knew he would be condemned, but there was a strange peace in the fact. He knew he deserved it. The evidence lay at his feet, the blood still running fresh and dampening the ground around Kegan’s head. But with his rightful punishment would also come the end of his struggle with the problem of Gareth’s unanswered challenge. Adlai waited. He already knew the truth. Justin somehow knew this, yet he expected Justin to answer for himself. He honestly didn’t know what to say for a moment. All his thoughts on the problem, or his actions, as factual as they were, did not seem like truth in the presence of Adlai. They were all too weak. Only pure truth belonged here, and Justin realized all too clearly that he probably had never truly known pure truth. He closed his eyes and stopped trying to think of an answer. His mind became like the sky had been moments ago, cold and dark, and then the clear white light slowly appeared and grew and with it the knowledge of what he must say. When he spoke Justin was surprised at the calmness in his own voice. “I have judged this man as well as my friend. I have in vengeance slain this man.” The silence that followed was bigger and cooler than anything Justin had ever known, and was inseparable from the luminous air. The light coming from Adlai was liquid in its ability to saturate everything it touched. How long this quiet lasted Justin didn’t know. It might have been hours, or only seconds; but whatever the length of time, it was a waiting. When Adlai spoke again Justin resumed breathing without realizing until that moment that he had been holding his breath in anticipation. “My judgment will not be cruel. Let mercy infuse justice. You are forgiven.” The second the words were uttered the dream ended and Justin awoke filled with humility. The constellation outside the barn window had moved, so that Justin could see that he had been asleep for a couple of hours, but he felt exhausted, as if he hadn’t rested at all. He turned over putting the stars to his back, closed his eyes again and was soon back asleep. And once again he had a disturbing dream, which had been recurring lately. It troubled him because it was so strange and consistent. In it he saw himself wearing strange clothes and reclining on a large bed of highly polished wood, thick with soft colorful covers. He was not asleep, but turning and looking at the pages of a richly inlaid book. The walls of the room were the color of sheepskin parchment and just as smooth. The window beside the bed was perfectly squared and had panes of glass so smooth and perfect that you almost didn’t realize that they were there. Outside it was summer, and one leafy branch of a tree, overhung a corner of the window, moving almost imperceptibly in the breeze. The rest of the window showed a warm, orange evening with the sun already out of sight and the first stars beginning to appear. The fabric that hung around the windows was as exquisite as the covers on the bed, which was firm and soft at the same time, unlike anything he had ever slept or even sat on, and perfectly smooth, not more full in some places and less in others like any of the mats he’d ever used regardless of their stuffing material. And the floor was covered with a rug that fit perfectly to the wall in every corner and on every edge as if it had grown there. It was thicker than any Justin had ever seen or even heard tell of in a story. He never moved off the bed in the dream, but somehow he knew if he had, his feet would have sunk in that rug just as if he was walking in thick moss. He didn’t understand anything about this dream. Nothing ever happened as in usual dreams. He just saw himself there reading. He felt however, that if he could see the words of the book, that he would learn something important, perhaps even something that would help him know what to do about his dilemma. His slumber went uninterrupted after this dream. He passed on into blissful unconsciousness where he spent several hours.

When he awoke the next morning the sun was already high in a perfect early autumn sky. Skipping breakfast and chiding himself for oversleeping, he hurried toward the fields where he knew the men would be raking hay together all that day. They had never asked or even seemed to expect him to help while he stayed with them, but seemed to regard him as an honored guest. He had pondered this often but never figured it out. Nevertheless he felt obliged to try and help out when he could. After all, he ate their food and slept in their barn. When the field came into sight as he turned a bend in the road, he was surprised to see the men gathered in a small knot at the edge of a field instead of scattered out working. Then he noticed Roth and two of his henchmen mounted on horses facing the group of men. Justin ran harder to get there and learn what was happening. He arrived a few seconds later, so out of breath that he couldn’t speak, but stood panting heavily at the back of the group.

Straining to hear over the noise of his own breath, and the blood pounding through his head, he heard Roth berating one of the farmers.

“You are a liar as well as a thief!” yelled Roth at a man with a mottled complexion called Breck. “To think that you have the audacity to maintain such a story when you should be begging my forgiveness.”

“I do apologize for any offense I have caused you, Lord Roth, but I speak the truth when I say that I did not know you expected a tribute from my vegetable patch. I am a cattle farmer, as you know, and I am always prompt and exact with my tax to you. The root garden was just an idea of mine to help with the feeding of my family, not for sale. With the care of my herd I would never have time to farm a produce crop like the men on the other side of the town. We barely have time to raise what is necessary for the upkeep of the livestock.”

“Still you refuse to admit your crime! I have heard enough of this insult! We are through here.” Roth reached into his quiver and armed his bow as he spoke. “I will teach you to steal from me and then lie about it, you pig.” In one swift motion he touched an arrow, tipped in some black substance, to the torch carried by one of his henchmen. It burst into flame and he fired it into the man’s field. “Let that be a lesson to the rest of you thieves and sluggards,” he growled as he jerked his horse’s head around and spurred him away, followed by his men.

Justin stood gaping in disbelief as he saw the fire begin in the middle of the field of hay, cut and dried and ready to be taken into the waiting barn. As he listened to the sound of the horses’ hooves disappearing in the distance, the men immediately burst into speech and action, bent on containing and extinguishing the blaze. Justin waited dumbly for directions and then moved as if in a daze as he worked with the rest to put out the fire. They ran to surround the burning area and began to work inward, beating it with tools and clothes to put it out as quickly as they could. When they had succeeded in containing the fire in a circle that no longer moved out toward the surrounding fields, some of them began to run for more help and water. Soon everyone around was involved in fighting it. Some men continued beating it while others, along with women and children, ran back and forth carrying water. It wasn’t long until it was out, and everyone was dropping to rest on the unburned golden hay around the blackened center of the destroyed field. Tory’s father was the first to speak to the man called Breck, “Our livestock may eat a bit leaner this winter, but yours will not starve,” to which the entire group heartily agreed. Justin sat wondering at a people that would allow themselves to be treated so. It was wrong and he did not know how long it had been so. Well, it could not go on. They couldn’t let it. But he knew that they would. But what if he could do something? Perhaps if approached correctly and very carefully, and cast in the right light, this would be enough to wake them up. Maybe if someone planted the spark of the idea in their minds, as Roth had just planted one of fire in Breck’s hay, and fanned it, they could be convinced to do something about Roth. As he sat considering these things, his thoughts began to arrange themselves into arguments and to take the form of a speech to the farmers igniting them to the cause of bringing Roth to justice. The longer he thought about it the more sense it made to him. He would talk to them. Maybe all they needed was someone to help them to see the incredible unfairness of the entire situation. He was young, but for some reason he seemed to have their respect. Why should he not speak to them? After all he had more experience in waging battle than any of them. He would just have to be tactful in his address, careful not to let them think that he was usurping leadership. He considered these things as he worked with the others until they returned to their homes for the midday meal, but he didn’t mention it to Tory yet. He needed to plan more. If he didn’t approach it just right the first time, there would probably be no second chance. He wanted Tory’s input, but he wanted to be sure of his own position and how to present it first.

He awoke the next morning from a dreamless sleep and told his new friend that he had something to do in the nearby town. He really just wanted more time to think, without even the interruption of conversation or concentration on work. He thought walking around among strangers would be as good as being alone. So right after breakfast he set off in the direction of the small town, which he had gone through at night a few weeks earlier before meeting Tory’s people. It had been dark and he had had no interest in stopping, so he had taken very little notice of it. Now he was a bit curious to see firsthand how Roth’s non-farming subjects lived, and he felt it would be a good atmosphere in which to contemplate a plan to get to Roth.

The people and the town would serve as inspiration. When he crested a small hill and the town came into view, it was as if he was seeing it for the first time. Most notably, it was larger than he had realized, because it was wider than it was long, and therefore when he had walked straight through on the cross country road he had passed through very little of it. Now as he looked down he saw many streets and alleys he could roam while he got things straight in his mind. To be on the safe side, he dropped his small money pouch into his shirt and tucked it under his belt, so that the few coins he carried there would make no noise when he walked. The small rise on which he stood was about three hundred yards from the town. Beyond it he could also make out some orchard land and Roth’s manor just past the trees. Behind the manor was the beginning of the hills, rocky at the bottom, wooded further up. From the nearest divide in the hills ran the vibrant stream that watered the manor valley as well as the town. In the event of a rebellion Roth could at least temporarily dam the stream and cut off the town’s water supply, unless they somehow prevented him, but Roth’s access to the stream was so wide, could they really expect to keep that from happening? And how many might be lost in the attempt? This assuming that the townspeople would even be interested in removing Roth from power. The farmers drew their water from a large well, and had stores of food too, so that Roth could not threaten them with hunger or thirst. But would they have the numbers for the battle without at least some assistance from the town? And he was sure that the farmers’ lack of weapons and fighting skills would be a serious problem. He hoped to find the inhabitants of the town more capable in these areas than the farmers.

As he entered the outskirts of the town, Justin noted the same daub on wood construction of the town buildings as that of the farmers’ homes. And as he continued up the thoroughfare he also noted the same poverty, the dingy worn clothing, needed repairs to buildings gone undone, and the tools and utensils obviously mended many times over. He also studied the faces of the men and women. They seemed to have the same air of resignation about them as the farmers. There seemed no spark of resentment or defiance about them, which would be absolutely necessary to incite a rebellion. But perhaps it just didn’t show itself. If only a seed of discontent lay buried beneath the surface, it could, after all, be cultivated.

Justin walked without actual purpose up one lane after another. The later the morning got, the more populated and noisy the streets became. Walking slowly he heard, without seeming to, the day-to-day conversations of the townspeople, from the aged to the very young. And though their talk ran the spectrum of mundane concerns, and the range of normal human emotions, including many complaints the root of which Justin knew to be Roth, he heard no open criticism or slander. After a couple of hours the sun, which had at first felt good on his back, began to cause his shirt to stick to him and Justin looked around for a place to rest. He immediately spied a strip of shade under the low hanging edge of a thatched roof. There were no windows on the wall beneath the eve, and the wall formed one side of a dead end alley, so he gratefully lowered himself into the cool spot and leaned back to rest. The cool daub wall of the building felt good on his back and before two minutes had passed Justin felt his eyes beginning to close of their own accord. He saw no reason that he shouldn’t take a tiny nap, so he let himself drift in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes. He would awake to some nearby sound to find he’d been dreaming of the fire in the field, or the evening campfires of the farmers, or the battle in which his friend was shamed. The last sound to awaken him surprised him into a completely alert state. It was the sound of a young man swearing and spitting out the name of Roth. Justin jerked his head around to see who had spoken. He saw a large, slightly surly and very dirty looking youth looking darkly past him and into the street. He turned to follow the gaze and saw Roth and two of his henchmen sitting on horses, talking. When Justin turned back to the youth he found he had crossed to the other side of the alley and was carefully edging toward the street never letting his eyes leave Roth. Justin could see that the young man’s intention was to get out of the alley without Roth seeing him. But Justin desperately wanted a chance to talk to him. He was the first person Justin had encountered who had shown animosity for Roth. He realized that he had to act quickly before the youth got away, but he didn’t want to attract Roth’s attention any more than the other. He hesitated for a moment trying to reason out what to do. But the young man was stealthily moving away from him and he knew he had no way of finding him again. He had to act, so he rocked forward onto his feet intending to creep across the alley, catch up with the other and speak to him. But his feet had gone to sleep while he had sat resting, and as soon as the weight of his body hit them, they turned to jelly, buckled under him and let him collapse onto his knees in the dirt of the alley. The sudden movement caught the attention of Roth, who at first looked without interest at Justin, but then noticed the creeping man and yelled “Ho, thief” in his direction. The man cursed again and bolted for the open end of the alley.

Roth, seeing his intent quickly shot an arrow within inches of his head to stick into the corner post of the nearby building. The young man stumbled, fell and froze where he was.

Roth moved his horse close to him and said in mock politeness, “If you’re not in too big a hurry, I’d like to have a word with you.” The youth was sullenly silent. “Good, good,” Roth continued, “now worm, about helping yourself to the surplus apples in my south orchard.”

“Indeed, I am sorry, but I’ve fallen on especially rough times of late, and being overcome with hunger I made free of three of your apples. It was as wrong as can be. I see that now, and will gladly pay you the moment fortune smiles on me, which I judge to be soon, as Morell, the smithy has some work for me in another day, so he tells…”

“Silence! Faugh! Must I have your pitiful life’s story in addition to your robbery? A few hours in the stockade might teach you when to hold your tongue and take your just punishment.”

Unable to stand it any longer, Justin jumped to his feet and burst out, “Just punishment?! Nothing about the way you treat these people is fair!”

Roth turned in surprise and noticed Justin for the first time. “And might I inquire the name of my self-appointed judge?” he sneered.

Justin quailed for a moment, but then became infuriated when a henchman swatted him in the back of the head with a riding crop and demanded, “Tell the lord your name, filth.”

He answered, “You are not my lord, and my name is Justin.”

Roth laughed loudly. “Oh, ‘Justin.’ Indeed, I am in dire straits now, for my judge is Justice, himself,” he said with a sneer. “Should I throw myself now on the mercy of the court, men?” Roth’s companions laughed raucously. Roth then became furious. “And to what hole do you crawl at day’s end to deny I’m your lord, when I rule all the land within a fortnight’s journey in any direction? You would do well to learn from your friend here how to behave in my presence, even if he did try to escape it.” And he spat on the dust-covered back of the young man, who was still cowering on his hands and knees in the street, looking at the ground. “I have more important business today, however, than ridding this street of vermin. I understand that the Lord of Atley is in town with a generous gift to offer me, so that I will postpone my plans to take over all that he owns for a little longer. I will deal with you two at my leisure.” He leveled a kick into the side of Justin’s head, and delivered a stinging lash from his riding crop to the thief’s back, as he turned his horse and rode away at a trot.

When the sound of the horses’ hooves had diminished, the cowering youth looked up warily at their retreat, and then inquisitively toward Justin. “My name is Wyatt. I don’t know you, and I know by sight at least most everyone around here. But you seem to have some knowledge of Roth. Are you from Marsden or Strom?”

“No, a bit further away,” Justin replied offering the still crouching youth his hand.

As he rose Wyatt probed again, “Then how do you know that Roth is unfair? I might indeed be a vile thief.”

“I know a little of Roth because I’ve been stopping with the cattlemen for the past fortnight. But since we seem to be free to interrogate each other, may I inquire why you call him simply ‘Roth’ when everyone else seems to feel he has a right to his title? You were certainly obsequious enough when he was present.”

“I simply like breathing and walking about,” Wyatt replied, his voice thick with resentment. “The errand I was about to be on can wait a bit. Would you like to come in, stranger?” Wyatt asked as he indicated a small, low doorway in the windowless wall behind him, which Justin hadn’t even noticed before though he’d been sitting almost across from it. He wanted to speak more with the young man, so he stepped through the door Wyatt had opened and down a couple of steps. Wyatt was right behind him and quickly closed the door. It was at first so dark compared with the bright outside light, that Justin could see nothing but shadowy shapes in the room. They resolved themselves into crude furnishings as his eyes adjusted, and Wyatt reached up, unhooked and swung back a hinged board that had been covering a rectangular slit in the ceiling about two inches wide and a foot long, through which a dim kind of daylight filtered. “Believe me, if I could speak to Roth as he deserves and live, I would do it and more,” Wyatt stated picking up the conversation right where they had left off in the street, and setting two cups on the table which he filled with cool water from a crock in the corner. “Water is still free from the spring so I can afford this hospitality. I’m sure it won’t be as soon as Roth thinks to design a way to charge for it.”

“You are the first person that I have heard speak so critically of him.”

“Most of the people around here are loyal to the King to the point that they think anything said against Roth would be the same as disrespect to His Majesty. There are a few who will speak up a little when they’ve stayed a while in the tavern,” he jerked his thumb up toward the ceiling as he said this, then continued, “but in the morning they are quiet again.”

“It has galled me how the farmers let Roth abuse them ever since I stopped here. The men of my clan would never put up with such tyranny.”

“Really? Is your landlord equitable then? I have heard some are.”

“We do not have landlords. In my great great-grandfather’s time when they began to tax unfairly we overthrew them and began to rule ourselves.”

“Is this true?” Wyatt demanded excitedly. “Do you come, then, from the other side of the forest across the river? I had always thought those stories to be fancy. Are they actually true, then?”

“I can’t know what stories you have heard, but we do indeed rule ourselves. There are no landlords. It’s not easy of course. We work very hard and have to protect our property ourselves, and we have no one to fall back on in lean years, but we feel our independence is worth these troubles.”

“The idea is captivating for me. But what are you doing around here, then?”

Justin thought perhaps he had found the first of the rebels he was seeking. “Let me answer you that another time, please. I’d like to ask you something that I came here to learn today. Would it not be better for you and these people to live free of Roth’s tyranny? Would you not like to live under the rules of true justice agreed upon by all, instead of under one man’s cruelty and selfishness? Because I tell you truly that it could easily be achieved if the people would unite against Roth.”

“Well, my friend, I tell you truly that is a pretty big ‘if.’ Don’t think I haven’t dreamed of giving Roth his due, but I’m one, and I don’t know if you could find another like mind in the entire land.”

“Let us at least give them the chance. I think perhaps they could be convinced, especially if they hear it from one who has lived free from lordship. I would like to try talking to them.”

“Well, I certainly won’t stand in your way, but have you any other ideas? I have no confidence in this one, and would as soon kill the idea in my own mind now, as be more disappointed later.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I have racked my brain more times than I care to remember on how to defeat Roth. I thought perhaps with your background you might have ideas that would never occur to me. I’m talking about a way that one, or maybe two, could successfully get to Roth alone, do the job for the people and then let them join in from there.”

Justin, suddenly wary, darted a quick glance at the other. Yes, his suspicion was confirmed. The youth had certainly meant an assassination. It was there in his eyes. “Well, Wyatt, to be honest with you, that doesn’t seem exactly fair to Roth.” Wyatt snorted in disgust and turned away. “Wait, wait, I know. I didn’t say that Roth deserved fairness. I know that he doesn’t.”

“No, he doesn’t!” Wyatt interrupted. “But you don’t really know it, not like I do, not like we who live here know it. We know it every minute of our lives. Everything we do, say, have…” Wyatt struggled for his next words, “…everything we are, even, is subject to his approval. Uagh, no, you don’t know!” He almost spat the last words.

Justin waited for Wyatt to reign in his emotions. The young man seemed close to tears. His own indignation seemed to pale in comparison to Wyatt’s, but the reaction had served to strengthen his resolve. He even imagined that he could incorporate Wyatt’s feelings into his own. “You’re right, of course,” Justin continued after a moment. “I just think that if the people rise together against him, it’s as if he has a chance to comply with them or withdraw. I wouldn’t expect him to do either, and I really think it will have to end in killing him. I just think it should be done honorably. That’s all.”

“But if they won’t?” Wyatt’s voice was like ice-cold water poured down the back of Justin’s neck and the challenge was unmistakable. “What then, if they won’t? And, believe me, they won’t. We return to the way things are. And so much for your true justice.” His voice had become flat and resigned by the time he finished speaking.

“Well, why don’t we cross that bridge when we come to it?” Justin suggested, knowing even as he said it that it sounded weak and noncommittal. “Let us give the people a chance.” In a matter of seconds Wyatt’s face took on a blank, stony attitude, as if he’d just been condemned. Without even thinking Justin added, “If they won’t rally, we could perhaps find an honorable way to deal with him ourselves.” As soon as he’d said it he wondered why. He truly wanted to help these people rise up and defeat Roth, even lead them. But why would he volunteer to take it on practically alone? And did they even deserve a deliverance that they weren’t willing to work for themselves? But here was Wyatt. That was why he’d said it. Because this one wanted it so badly, and saw it like he did himself. Justin could see that in Wyatt’s face.

“All right,” replied Wyatt grimly.

“Very well,” said Justin. “Where I am from we usually seal a deal with food. Is there anywhere near that I could buy us a bite of something? I have a little money.”

“There are the baker and the dairy in the next street,” Wyatt answered quickly, “but don’t feel you have to bestow your charity on me because of what happened out in the street. I shift for myself well enough even without Roth’s apples.”

“I don’t feel that I have to, but let’s go. I’m hungry myself.”

A few moments later found them back in the dusky dwelling hungrily eating strong white cheese on crusty brown bread. When they had washed the food down with another cup from Wyatt’s water jar, an awkward silence began to fill the room. They had said all that there was to say for the moment. Justin rose to leave before the void grew too large. “I will return day after tomorrow and let you know if I have been able to convince any farmers to join us. We can then with their help perhaps recruit more from the town.”

“All right, then. However it turns out, I am glad to have met you, Justin.”

“And I, likewise,” rejoined Justin, and with that he took his leave of Wyatt’s room and of the town.

As he walked back up the road he had time to consider how he would go about approaching the farmers. The more he thought about it, he became convinced that a good time to broach the subject might be as they began work on the burned field. He would have the advantage of a very powerful reminder of the problem. They would not be able to refute the unjust treatment of Roth if they were standing in the field he had burned two days before. Of course they would be in a large group, and it could be easier for them to band together in opposition to his plan. It could be easier to convince one or two alone. But if he could get them thinking in his direction, then having them in a group could cause the reluctant ones to fall in with the plan. But what was the plan? Justin continued to contemplate that problem all the way back. First they would need to organize their numbers. Then there would be the need for weapons and probably some training. This would take a few days and it would all need to be kept secret. That would be the tricky part. These people were not naturally given to secrecy. Nor to scheming he ruefully admitted to himself.

When Justin got back to Tory’s home he spent the remainder of the day securing some boards that he had noticed to be loosened by the wind on the west side of the barn. It was work that his hands could do without any help from his brain. That left his mind free to contemplate how he would approach the farmers the next morning. Tory found him still there at sunset. “So this is where you’ve been hiding. Mother says it is almost time to eat supper. Thanks for fixing these. My father has been reminding me about them for weeks, but I hadn’t taken time to do it yet.”

“Do not speak of it. I should try and make myself a little useful after all the hospitality your family has extended me. Do we have time to finish now, or will it have to wait until tomorrow?”

“Mother was just milking, so we can finish.” Tory dropped down beside Justin and began on the next loose board. They worked quickly and quietly. Justin sneaked a sideways look at the open, guileless face of his friend who was bent over his task with obviously no other care at the moment. One couldn’t tell from looking at Tory that a tragic injustice had been done the day before. His face was completely untroubled, his mind apparently only on the task at hand. As he hammered the last nail into the board in front of him, Justin debated whether or not to talk to Tory about his plot before unveiling it to the farmers. Tory also was finishing the board in front of him. When he had put the last nail in, he looked to both sides at the barn wall, stood up, and turning to Justin said, “Well, that’s done. Thank you. We’d better wash and head for the house now. If we make mother wait too long she’ll give us a scolding.” As they headed for the house Justin decided not to broach the subject until the next morning with the entire group.

Justin slept lightly that night and awoke early the next morning. He walked with Tory and his father to the burned field to meet with the other farmers. When they arrived Breck and his neighbor were discussing what needed to be done. The other farmers could be seen approaching from other directions. When all had gathered in a loose group a short man who worked the next field addressed them. “We’ve been talking and really there is nothing we can do now for this field. What is lost, is lost, and cannot be retrieved. Breck and his sons can help in our harvests, and we will help them through the winter by supplying their livestock with what is needed as Barker said yesterday. After harvest is over those of us who are able can help Breck till and reseed his fields.” A sound of assent rippled through the group and Justin saw men all around nodding approval. He knew that in a matter of seconds the knot of farmers would loosen and they would drift in all directions to begin their day’s work. He had to speak up or lose this chance, and he didn’t know when another one as opportune would present itself. Suddenly he was nervous, but squashing the feeling he spoke out quickly in the short silence.

“But what about Roth? What will you do about his destruction of your neighbor’s field? Surely you will not suffer it. Don’t you think the time has come to put an end to his tyranny? I know that not I, nor any of the men in my clan, would suffer such treatment. I realize I am an outsider, but I have even spoken to one of your own in the town who feels the same as I. The way Roth treats your people is not fair and he shouldn’t be allowed to continue so.”

“What are you speaking of young man?” asked a very tall farmer that Justin had seen but never heard speak before.

“I’m talking about a rebellion against Roth’s unjust rule over you. There are many able men of the town and the farms. Together we could overthrow Roth and his men. Then you could rule yourselves or set up a leader who would be fair.”

Breck spoke next. “Well, no one here has better cause for complaint right now than me and my family, and I don’t think you’d find one among us who would deny that Roth is oppressive, much more of late than in the past. But we must also not forget that it is the Great King who has placed us under Roth’s lordship, not we ourselves. I do not think we should remove ourselves from it without His council.”

“Breck speaks the truth,” agreed the tall man. “And even in the worst of times we have still lived mostly in peace, none of us has been harmed, and always we live in plenty.”

“And let us not forget,” added Tory’s father, “that because things have been harder lately the elder council has sent a messenger to the North side of the mountain to inquire of His Majesty about the matter. I believe we should wait for His word before even considering such rash action, let alone carrying out such violence as this would undoubtedly involve.”

“Those are wise words,” affirmed a voice from behind Justin and he saw heads nodding solemnly all around the group.

The talk did not last much longer and it was clear that the farmers would not be a part of any rebellion. Justin would have to sound out the townspeople and see if there was any support to be had there. He remained the rest of the day with Tory and the others doing anything he could to help with the now less than bountiful hay.

When he and Tory returned home in the evening, Justin did not try and turn the conversation toward Roth, but instead decided to explore another avenue down which he had thought he might find some help. All afternoon he had been preoccupied with the possibility that the townspeople would be as passive as the farmers had been. And looming above this thought was the face of Wyatt, in which he saw mirrored the same rage which he felt at the injustice of it all. Then he turned toward Tory, and his face was a complete contrast. He was simply at peace, even though it was obvious that he was concerned and disturbed about what had happened. Where did that strange peace come from? Justin mused on the question for only a second before his mind reverted to his goal for the evening. He had practiced several starts in his head during the day. None of them seemed at all natural, but he hoped Tory was guileless enough to not notice. And though he had no calm about him, Justin was focused if anything. Plunging ahead, he broke in upon his friend’s thoughts.

“I was thinking, Tory, I’ve heard your people talk about the Great King and even His gifts. I was wondering if some time you could tell me more about these things. You see, although He is sometimes referred to in our lore, specific stories aren’t known to my clan.”

“Oh, surely, I would be glad to tell you more. But there is so much. I, let me see. I could start with… He is so much a part of everything. I find I don’t know where to begin.”

“Well, why not start with the gifts. I’m sure we’ll get somewhere from there.”

“Yes, the gifts. The gifts have come to us over many years. The first has been with us for more generations than we trace. That is the canopy. It signifies His covering over us. We hold our holiday and convocation gatherings under it. During those we bring out two more of the gifts, the stone and the lamp. The stone represents the power and strength of faith if it is rightly placed. And the lamp, which we do not have to refill, symbolizes the wisdom, knowledge and truth available to us.”

“Are all of the gifts symbolic then? Are none of them of practical use?”

Tory laughed. “Justin, their practical use is inherent in their symbolism.”

Justin was slightly annoyed at being laughed at even though he knew no mockery was intended. But he wanted to keep Tory talking, at least a little more to see if this was going anywhere, so he replied, “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. I guess I just think in more concrete terms.”

“Well, there is also the sower’s bag. It would be of enough practical use to impress even you. It is a woven bag, such as you see worn by farmers when they go out to sow a field. But it is magical. Whenever in our history there has been such a shortage so that not enough seed remained to sow a new crop we have gone to the bag and it was full of whatever we needed. Once many years ago there was such a bad year that no one had anything to start with. The bag was passed from family to family and it always contained the type and amount of seed that was needed. But it is empty at all other times.”

“Did you get to use it to sow?”

“No, that was even before my father’s time.”

“I see,” said Justin trying to keep the doubt out of his voice. “That is amazing. So those are the gifts then that are mentioned in your songs.”

“Well, there is one more, but it may be classed with the first more symbolic by yourself. It is a mail vest. It is said to be impenetrable and even to make the wearer invincible, but of course we are at peace and have had no reason to test it, and as it is only one, I can’t see how it would be very useful even if we were in combat.”

Even though Justin had to agree with this last point, the mail vest sparked his interest more than all the others combined. But he kept coming back to the fact that even if it did work, even only as ordinary armor, it was still only one. Nevertheless, his thoughts returned to the idea of the mail vest several times during the evening.

Later that night as he waited for sleep Justin resolved to go to see Wyatt the next day. He didn’t look forward to telling him how it had gone with the farmers but he was eager to try for a better response with the townsmen.

The sun was high the next day when Justin knocked on Wyatt’s door. There was no answer and no response when he called Wyatt’s name, so Justin sat down against the wall to wait. After about ten minutes an old man came shuffling down the alley and passed Justin without even a sideways glance. He was unshaven and dressed in rags. His feet were bare and dirty. Justin expected him to go to the end of the alley and sit down like himself, and was surprised to see the old man enter the door on which he’d just knocked. Was he going to try to rob the place? If so, he might be disappointed at the lack of valuables in Wyatt’s home. Justin wondered if he should do something about it. But the old man hadn’t looked at all suspicious as he had come or when he’d gone in the door. Perhaps Wyatt knew him and expected him, allowed him to enter on his own. He hoped that this wasn’t the caliber of rebel he could expect. He was still turning things over in his mind when he heard quick footsteps and turned to see Wyatt approaching.

“Justin, I am glad to see you. Have you been waiting long? Let us go in and talk.”

Wyatt said all of this as he moved, and was holding the door open for Justin to walk through, before he finished speaking leaving him no time to ask about the old man. So Justin went in and immediately looked around to find him. Again, as on his first visit, the dim lighting of the room caused his eyes to need to adjust. Wyatt came in right behind him, and as before went across the room and opened the slit in the ceiling, which provided the light for the room in the daytime. By that time Justin had located the old man sitting in the far corner of the room regarding them both with something just short of disdain.

Turning Wyatt saw him too. “Good, you’re here, father. This is Justin, the one I told you about. Justin this is my father, Gresham, by name.”

Justin was momentarily taken aback. Wyatt was poor, but strong, clean and well spoken. This old man seemed just the opposite. But he recovered himself and responded, “Honored, sir.”

The old man lifted his head almost imperceptibly acknowledging that he’d heard, but said nothing to either of them. Undaunted, Wyatt continued. Filling two cups with water and setting them on the table, he motioned for Justin to sit down. “So, Justin, how did you fare with the cattlemen? Were you able to turn any of them from their complacency?”

“I regret to say, no. After trying, I am convinced that we can expect no help from them at all.”

“Yes, that is as I expected,” said Wyatt, apparently unaffected by the report.

“Well, we may do better with the townsmen, or perhaps the crop farmers east of the town.”

“I think you can expect even less of them than the cattlemen, and of the town, we may be able to come up with one or two.” Wyatt spoke as if this was of no consequence at all.

“How then, do you think, we can prevail against Roth and his men, Wyatt?” Justin had counted on Wyatt to put him in contact with some in the town with which to start. Furthermore he had hoped that it would build from there. Suddenly he was tired of this conflict and of his own. Then to be met with Wyatt’s seeming unconcern had deflated Justin, and it had been audible in his tone when he asked the question.

Wyatt’s father chose that moment to break his silence. Justin had been so preoccupied for a few seconds that he had actually forgotten that the old man was there, and was therefore momentarily surprised when he shifted forward on his chair and spoke. His voice further shocked Justin for it was soft, gentle and imploring, completely out of keeping with his appearance. “Wyatt, why fight? Hear me, you are young. You have a future. Go find a place where you can have a good life. You do not have to stay here.”

“This is my home, father! Why should I leave it? Why should I leave… Ah, fie!”

“I know, Wyatt, I know. But don’t leave her. Take her with you. Her father would permit it. He knows you can provide for her. You are twice the smith as Morell. Everyone knows it. You would both be fine. You would find a good place. Why waste your life fighting Roth?”

Wyatt did not respond. When Justin looked back at him his face was contorted with a mixture of longing and resentment. His father sighed, stood, crossed the room and placed his hand on his shoulder for a moment, then left, shuffling quietly, just as Justin had seen him in the street before.

Wyatt was silent for another few seconds and when he spoke his voice was thick. “My father gives what he considers to be wise council. You and I do not agree. That is all. Why should I or anyone else have to go away from home, friends, or family to find peace or a prosperous life? And if I leave here, what of others who stay? What do they have to hope for?”

“Yes, Wyatt, we agree that Roth should be brought down. But how do we do it, only we two?” Justin was aware of how their places had changed since the last time they met, but he was still feeling tired and did not care. He was unused to having to stand so alone. He was used to the combined numbers and will of his clan. He was becoming weary of his own solitary dilemma and of Wyatt’s. He was ready for someone else to tell him what to do.

“There are tunnels,” said Wyatt. He couldn’t have said anything else that would have gotten Justin’s attention any faster. It was so unexpected and seemingly irrelevant. Justin simply looked at him as if he was perhaps insane and waited. “Tunnels,” repeated Wyatt, “under the manor and the surrounding grounds, with several outlets. I discovered them by accident one time when I was poaching in his orchards. They explain why he and his devils can come and go, and spy so easily without warning. I believe that is also why they almost always carry torches even in the daytime, for light when they go below ground.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I have often thought if I could get Roth alone, without his men, perhaps I could take him. If you could help me, teach me some of what you know of combat, and I could somehow lure him into one of the tunnels alone… well… I could take care of him and escape. I don’t think his followers would last long without him. And I think the people would more easily rise against them without Roth at the head. You have probably even heard among the cattlemen how some even think to allow Roth to rule us is right. But with him out of the way, I think we might have a chance to establish a new rule, more fair to all.”

“I have heard what you speak of, even from Tory, Barker’s son with whom I lodge.”

“I know the family. They are good people, loyal to the King. But can it be right for us to live under such tyranny? Would His Majesty want this?”

“I don’t even pretend to understand the King or those loyal to Him, so let’s not debate that. Instead let’s discuss something I can relate to. How would you get Roth alone? And what weapon would you use against him?”

“To answer your first question, he rides out every second day of the week to consult with a wicked astronomer who is in his pay. I have observed him do this regularly. The star gazer lives just inside the southern forest. Roth takes the tunnel in that direction which has two openings. He emerges from the last, which opens in back of his stables. From there he gets his horse and rides into the woods. This is the only thing he ever does alone to my knowledge. I do not think the seer would meet with him if he had anyone with him. I have heard he is suspicious, even paranoid. I could lay in wait for Roth in the tunnel. My only concern is that he would call for help and I would be caught. But if there were a distraction further back in the tunnel, before the first opening, at the right moment, then that would be mistaken for anything that had been heard.”

“The one who causes this distraction would be taking a great risk as well, would he not?”

“He would undoubtedly suffer a beating, but they would not dare to kill him without first bringing him before Roth. A cry would need to be raised after Roth was disposed of, so that in the distraction this second person could escape and be forgotten. You would be easily forgotten, as you are not well known here to begin with. Of course, if the deed went undetected until I am out of the tunnel, this second person need not ever be discovered at all.”

“And for a weapon?”

Wyatt rose and crossed the room to where there was a stack of folded blankets and cloaks. Shifting the entire stack aside he took from underneath two long poles with blades on each of the four ends. They were not exactly alike but similar. “I made these,” Wyatt said. “They are similar to the reaping tools that I sometimes make for the herd farmers to cut hay with. But I have made them of hickory instead of ash. This makes them heavier, to give more force to the blow. The farmers need them lighter so that they can use them for long periods. And the blades are straighter and more in line with the longer shafts than those I make the farmers; more for striking down an enemy who stands before you than for cutting through grass at your feet. So it is a weapon disguised as a tool. You can see that I took much more trouble making this one. I worked on it for a long time. This other one I fashioned rather quickly after the very first time that we talked together. This end I did not make. It is only a modified reaping blade. It is not quite as well wrought as the other, but sound enough I am sure.”

Justin realized that Wyatt was not only hoping for, but counting on his help, and he wanted time to think before further committing himself, so he changed the topic for a moment. “What do you know about the gifts that your people have from the Great King? Do you think the mail vest might be of use for protection in a confrontation?”

“I know of the gifts. I know what they are. I think the farmers think about them more than we townsmen.”

“So do you think the vest could help?”

“I suppose the vest could offer some physical protection to the one who wore it. The arrows Roth uses are not extremely sharp or well made. The man who makes them for him doesn’t really pride himself on his work. In fact, he is a drunkard. So as I think about it, the vest might indeed offer a measure of protection. And a bruise or broken bone may heal better than an arrow wound.”

“You don’t believe in the vest’s power of invincibility, then?”

“Do you?”

“No,” Justin admitted, “but I think if we attempt this that I should take on Roth. I have more experience in combat. It only makes sense to do it that way, and I would not mind wearing any protective armor that I could obtain.”

“I would not feel right allowing you to take the greater risk, Justin. While his henchmen would not kill without asking, Roth would not hesitate to do so, even on a whim. As far as the vest goes, I suppose that it would work as armor. But if we ask to use it we would give away our secrecy, at the very least and perhaps still be denied. Of course, if we didn’t ask…”

“Could we get it without asking?”

“It is not guarded. None of the gifts are. What would be the need? They are of such a nature that they would not be of any great monetary value. Besides most of the people hold them in some degree of reverence or another.”

“How are they kept safe?”

“They are simply stored in a small building in an uncultivated field on the north side of the town where the large assemblies are held. No doubt you have been to the campfire meetings of the herd farmers. Several times a year there are similar meetings for everyone, the townspeople and the crop farmers too. Even Roth is welcome to attend, though of course he doesn’t. They are held there in that field. Some of the gifts are then brought out of the building. So as I say, the vest would be quite easy to obtain.”

“That is something we should consider then.” Without thinking too much about it Justin had entered into the conspiracy because it seemed hypothetical. Now as the conversation lulled for a moment, he realized with a jolt that it was not hypothetical, and that Wyatt considered him committed to the plan. But Wyatt’s focus had been contagious. Justin’s fatigue had fallen away as he had given his mind the freedom to puzzle over possible solutions to the problems at hand. He truly felt ten times better with something before him that needed his full attention and efforts. And that it was for the purpose of bringing down someone as cruel as Roth made it the more satisfying. Now it seemed that not only must the plan be carried out, but also that it was what Justin wanted and needed most to do. They continued to plan together for the rest of the day, arguing again and again about which part each should play. Wyatt always maintained that he should take the greater risk, but Justin contended that it only made sense for him to go up against Roth. And though he hated it, Wyatt could not dispute that Justin had the better chance of success. Justin seemed to win the argument each time it came up, but it wouldn’t be long before it had to be settled again. It was well after dark by the time that Justin returned to Tory’s home and to bed for the night.

The next day was the people’s rest day. Justin was glad for the chance to spend the entire day with Tory. He could wait for just the right moment to talk to him. They spent the early morning fishing in the stream and their catch was lunch. After eating they had stretched out in the shade of a large tree beside the house and dozed for a while. A large fly with a particularly loud buzz edged into Justin’s consciousness little by little until he awoke, groggy from the short nap. He saw that Tory was stirring restlessly too. “You awake, Tory?” he asked at a volume that would promote an affirmative answer.

“What? Yeah, sure,” came the reply.

“I met a guy in town, Tory, who agrees that Roth needs to be removed as Lord of this area.”

“Justin, you heard how the men here reacted to your suggestion of a rebellion day before yesterday. I can’t believe that the men in the town would be that differently minded.”

“You’re right, most of them wouldn’t. But there is one at least that feels something should be done.”

“Well, you also heard that they have sent an envoy to the Great King to see if anything can be done.”

“Well, Wyatt thinks something can be done now, and is willing to do it.”

“If you are speaking of Wyatt, the son of Gresham, I can easily imagine that he does think that. But he would not be able to fairly consider the matter given his family’s history with Roth.”

“What do you mean?”

“You mean to say that he didn’t tell you? Then you will be treated to another story today,” Tory said as he sat up and faced Justin who had already done so and was leaning against the tree. Tory yawned once and began, “Roth has his Lordship by right of marriage, Justin. The previous lord had no sons. Roth married his oldest daughter thus gaining the title for himself when her father died. But she because of her nature was not one who was sought in marriage by many, regardless of the incentives that she carried. And she was not Roth’s first choice either. He only married her for the title, and only after he had been utterly refused by the one woman whom he had pursued. That woman was Wyatt’s mother. She married the man she loved and respected, after spurning Roth for whom she could have neither love nor respect. By the time Roth came into his title, the whole thing had been forgotten, by all except him. When Roth gained power Wyatt was a baby and his father was a successful tanner in the town. Roth changed that. Nothing was too vile for him. He used theft, vandalism, slander and probably more already forgotten, to ruin Gresham. He was driven into poverty. Some believe the grief and stress of it was what sent Wyatt’s mother to an early grave as well, though of course one can never know something like that. So you can see that anything Wyatt thinks is strongly biased, Justin. Anyone in his place would have a very hard time regarding Roth without prejudice.”

“But even the most unbiased person could easily find fault with Roth, Tory.”

“But why do you want to, Justin? The Great King will take care of this matter. He expects us to do our part, but He must do His. We couldn’t if we tried.”

“Well, what of the gifts you told me about. The Great King gave them to you to use. Could any of them be helpful against Roth?”

“Yes, He has given them to us, and they are wholly ours to use.”

“Then why not employ them?”

“We do not hesitate to use them when we need to. But before we would employ their powers in this situation, we would want to know His will; after all He is wiser than us and tempers His justice with mercy. We might only end up being cruel like Roth if we tried to judge him. Furthermore, the gifts have their powers from the Great King. Who is to say what might happen if they were misused? And to be honest I can’t see how they could be of any use in this matter.”

Justin could easily believe that Tory would never have conceived the plan to use the mail vest that he and Wyatt were plotting. He did consider what Tory said about the consequences of misusing the gifts at the rest day gathering that afternoon. But the very way that they all sat around talking at will annoyed him. No wonder they never accomplished anything. They had no leader. No one seemed to be in charge. Any one of them could begin to talk, and the rest would immediately listen, and the only real judgment they seemed to apply to anything was what they or someone years ago had heard the King say. Justin found it infuriating that the slow strong men refused to do anything about Roth. No matter what, he knew that they would wait for the messenger from the North side of the Mountain, and word from the Great King before acting in any way. Nor would they use the gifts without His direction. Justin decided he wasn’t going to wait around doing nothing. In that building lay the means to victory and justice, punishment for Roth for the evil he’d done, and he deserved it. He couldn’t figure out how to punish his own enemy and still he worked on it. These slow and stupid farmers had the means to bring their enemy down and they just sat there. Every day they waited Roth went free to do as he pleased. It was an insult. Justin’s mind was made up. He would get the vest and wear it into combat with Roth himself. It would feel good to deliver the farmers, even if he couldn’t help his own friend. And it could easily be done without anyone losing face, since in their way of thinking it shouldn’t even be attempted.

The more he thought about it the more he wanted to look at the vest. Justin left Tory involved in a game with his friends and walked alone toward town. Before he had gotten half way there though, he turned off the road and set out through the fields making straight for the north side of the town. When he got near the northern side of the town he realized that it jutted out into a peak there, and sat up on a slight rise in the land. The late afternoon sun permeated everything including him as he climbed the knoll, and the warmth seemed to go completely through him, and to quiet the world with its weight. Once atop the small hill, it was easy to spot the field that Wyatt had spoken of. Uncultivated did not equal unkept. The field stood out from the surrounding ones in that it contained no cattle or crop, but more than that, by its immaculate perfection. The grass was lush and even. No rocks, sticks or debris of any kind were to be found, and trees as equally tended as the lawn marked the boundaries. The building too was an example of the finest work of the people. The smooth wooden pillars and beams gleamed dully in the sun and the daub walls had been inlaid with shiny pebbles, outlining some of the symbolic designs that Justin had noticed to be the favorites of the clan. The peace that rested on the entire area seemed to emanate from this one small field and building, and as he stood there taking it in, Justin wondered if everything Tory said about the King might not be true after all. But as he paused considering this, he felt as if he were walking in a dream and shook himself as if to awaken his mind and body. He moved quickly down the knoll and across the beautiful field. As he approached the building, though, a cloud moved across the sun throwing everything into shadows, and by the time it moved away the sun had sunk below the horizon taking its warmth with it. Justin felt a slight shiver as he reached the only door in the front of the small building and put his hand out to turn the handle and enter. Hurriedly he opened the door and slipped inside lest, he be observed by someone. He quickly closed the door almost completely behind him, leaving only a slight crack to admit a bit of the evening light. He had no difficulty locating the gifts. They were the first things his eyes fell upon. A deep, highly polished wooden shelf was built into the back wall running the entire width of the building. Resting on it were the exact things Tory had described to him.

The first to catch his eye was the canopy because the shaft of light coming in fell directly across it. It was folded neatly and lying in front of some poles, almost as highly polished as the shelf, which were obviously used to erect it. It was deep purple in color, and the woven cloth shimmered a little as the light moved on it when Justin stepped forward to touch it. When he did so it was the smoothest thing he had ever felt and it was warm, almost as if it was alive. The warmth and reflected glow seemed to spread to him. What had Tory said? Something about representing the covering of the King.

Suddenly he was curious about the other gifts as well as the vest. Deliberately he moved down the shelf to the next thing instead of skipping on to the one he had come seeking. The stone was next. Justin didn’t know what he had expected, probably nothing in particular, but certainly not this. A stone given as a gift from a king should be something unique and exquisite. But it looked like any number of rocks you might find in any stream. It was about the size and shape of a small melon, smooth to the touch, and mostly dark gray with tiny flecks of brown and light gray. Tory had talked about faith. Perhaps faith wasn’t a flashy thing.

The lamp was next. It too was gray. A smooth, soft feeling metal that warmed quickly under his fingers when he laid his hand on the base. It was simple in design, made like any other lamp, but beautiful too in that the curves of the metal were more artistic than function actually demanded. Justin resisted the urge to open it and look at the magical oil that didn’t run out, but he couldn’t help thinking that anyone could open it and refill it quite easily. Justin thought of the wisdom Tory believed to be available, which was symbolized by the lamp. He thought how nice it would be if that were true.

Justin almost overlooked the sower’s bag. Folded neatly, as it was, it was merely a small flat oblong shape on the shelf. It was light brown in color and made of woven cloth so rough that it had a somewhat hairy appearance. Justin debated whether to pick it up. But it was so unassuming in nature that he felt bold enough, and looked inside. Nothing. Quickly he refolded it and laid it back in its place. He gave no credence whatsoever to the story Tory had told him about the bag.

Finally he approached the item he had come seeking. Even though the shaft of light falling through the door did not come near the vest, the links of the mail caught the scant light and reflected it with a soft bluish glow. Justin stood admiring it for a moment. It was magnificent. The workmanship was both perfection and simplicity in their utmost forms. Every aspect of it was designed for ease of use. Even before lifting it off the shelf, Justin knew the tiny links of which it had been wrought would make it smooth and supple in his hands. Gingerly he picked it up and was not disappointed. He then lowered it carefully over his head and settled it on his shoulders. He twisted his body from side to side and reveled in the metallic whisper emitted by the vest. He raised and moved his arms in mock combat. There was absolutely no restriction. Justin had never known an object that he so immediately coveted. He inspected the mail and knew instantly that it was sound protection. Also, it fitted so naturally that it could easily be worn under a heavy tunic undetected. Justin was tempted to do just that right then and keep it. But if they took it too soon before they needed it, it might be discovered missing and their plan might be foiled. At that thought he was pulled back to where he was and what he was doing, and suddenly he wanted to get out of the small house and away to talk to Wyatt. Only as he put the vest back in its place on the shelf, did Justin remember that Tory believed that it could make the wearer invincible. Well, he at least thought that it would be an asset when confronting Roth.

As he stepped through the door and back into the evening the dusk was settling across the fields. Justin turned his steps toward town at a brisk rate. For some reason he wanted to get indoors and in human company. As dusk quickly settled and promised to become dark soon, the landscape that had seemed so pastoral a few moments ago took on a different air, like that of a young horse in the process of being trained, sometimes friendly but not at all tamed. Justin shivered as a cool, humid wind curled around his back, gently splashed in his face and rolled down the neck of his shirt. Suddenly he decided to enter town from the closer, north end even though he never had, and wasn’t sure of his route to Wyatt’s place. He just wanted to be out of the open. He lowered his head and walked even faster.

Once he entered the town limits he raised his head again and slowed his pace a little, lest he appear suspicious to the small number of people who remained outside leisurely enjoying the last moments of their rest day. Now all seemed normal around him. Inside, however, he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that had been with him ever since he had looked at the gifts and decided to use the vest. He only took one wrong turn in finding his way to Wyatt’s home from the north end of town, and soon he was sitting in the warm room across the table from his recently made friend. There he was able to regain his equilibrium. Wyatt was like him, open and determined. The kindred spirit relaxed Justin’s nerves as they again went over their plan to deal with Roth.

“So it is settled. I will be the one to confront Roth,” Justin insisted when they had come to the end of that argument yet again. He couldn’t stand the thought that Wyatt’s life and future might be forever ruined by the deed. What would the reactions of his father and his intended wife and her family be? These were not the arguments he used. He hammered on Wyatt’s complete lack of experience, knowing that that was one point that couldn’t be countered. As for himself, he couldn’t presently see anything in his own life that could be made any worse. So he refused to take part in the plan unless he had it his own way.

“I don’t like it,” Wyatt growled. “I know I don’t have the experience in battle you do, but it doesn’t seem right. If we are ever to get any farther, though, I think I am forced to concede.”

“Finally. You speak sense, friend,” exclaimed Justin almost joyously. “Now on to the finer details. You said that you will see me into the tunnel through the second opening, and then enter the tunnel through the first opening after Roth passes. There you will wait.”

“Yes, that is right,” said Wyatt. “If I hear any cry being raised or anyone coming down the tunnel, I will create a distraction. I am well known to Roth’s men. They will be glad to get their hands on me. And I will give them plenty to keep them busy for a bit.”

“Meanwhile, I will confront Roth. If there has been no disturbance, I will hurry back to you as soon as I am finished, and we will escape together, ready to turn men’s thoughts in the right directions when all is discovered.”

“Yes, and if I have been captured you will be able to hear so from outside the tunnel. If that happens you will need to work quickly. Some will probably be going to try and catch Roth at the stables while the others will take me back to the manor. The first opening is close to the manor, and my best chance is if you are there before us, and we are also ahead of those who went to get Roth. You will then say to those on guard that you bring word from Roth at the stables that he wants them all to go to him immediately. In that case those who have me will most likely lose interest, thinking that they can easily pick me up later and settle with me then. By the time Roth is discovered we will be forming a resistance. You will then have to disappear forever, my friend, but with our lifelong thanks.”

“I understand.”

“But if the crime is discovered while they still have me, it is much more difficult. You must get away and rally the uprising on your own. If you have no luck inspiring a rebellion, you can try for a rescue party. But under no circumstances are you to try and get me out by yourself. You will have already done so much more than your part, it need not be mentioned. I will not have you captured or killed as well.”

“You have the ropes and scythes?”

“Yes, they are all ready. Last night I placed the sickles I showed you earlier in the branches of a tree that we will pass on our way. The ropes I have ready and will hide in my clothing in the morning. I have already tried it and when I wrap them around my middle they do not show at all from the outside.”

Finally it seemed as though they had planned for everything that they could in advance. Neither of them thought that they could be prepared for any turn the escapade might take, but this did not bother them. In a way it exhilarated them and made the thing even more appealing because of the possible challenge. But as the talk slowed and Justin’s thoughts turned toward his walk back to Tory’s barn, the uneasy feeling began to rise up again inside him. He dallied, putting it off for a bit, but small talk was not a strength that either could claim, and the pauses in conversation made it obvious that they were through for the evening. Besides it was late enough that all who had work to do in the morning were already in their beds. Justin rose to leave.

“It is late. I had better be going.”

“You may sleep here if you like,” Wyatt replied. The offer was unexpected, but very welcome to Justin. Not only did he not want to walk or sleep in solitude tonight, he did not want to encounter Tory again before they had done what they were going to do.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. It will be even later by the time you reach the fields and you seem very weary. We are going to need to be rested in order to carry out our plan tomorrow.”

“Thank you, I think I will accept your offer.”

Wyatt took down from the wall mats like Justin used at Tory’s home, and pulled some rough blankets from a wooden box in one corner of the room. Soon they were both sleeping soundly on the floor.

The next morning the two rose early when the sky was still gray and breakfasted on hard rye bread and boiled eggs purchased from one of the farmers who came into town daily to sell their products. Both had rested well and felt alert and ready for what they had planned. Justin was surprised to find that he wasn’t nervous.

It was almost as if he wasn’t even there. As if he was only watching from a short distance. First they retraced Justin’s steps of the night before through town. When they reached the north end, Justin continued alone back through the fields to the house where the gifts were kept. The sun crested the horizon to his right just as he stepped into the small field that was his destination. The early morning light made sparks of the dew lying everywhere but did nothing to warm the air. Justin was thankful for the cold light though, when he stepped into the building. He wouldn’t have wanted to grope around in the dusk for the vest. He slipped it into a bag he carried over his shoulder for that purpose and quickly turned to go. This was the only part of the plan that he felt was truly risky. There was no reasonable explanation he could give if he were discovered while getting the vest. So he breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped out of the small convocation field. He smiled at how smoothly things were going as he slipped back across the other fields to where Wyatt was waiting just outside of town. As he crested a small knoll he came upon a young boy sitting and playing in the grass. He turned in surprise and then smiled up at Justin. Justin smiled back and made as if to go on around the child, but the boy spoke and Justin had to turn back toward him.

“I’m waiting on my dad, he forgot his water skin and went back for it, what are you doing, are you here to work with us?”

“Well, no, I, uh, I’m meeting some other men on the other side of town to work with them this morning.”

“Oh, good day then,” and the child went back to the imagined game he was playing.

Justin looked around and moved quickly away, glad to be gone before the father came back into view. A few more moments of walking brought him to where Wyatt was waiting.

As the two walked around the town in the direction of the manor the sun was rising quickly. By the time they skirted Roth’s grounds and headed toward his stables, it was a bright yellow circle in a cloudless light blue sky. Justin could feel the chill starting to leave his body and the warmth beginning to seep down from his head where the sun beat on him.

When they came into sight of the tree where Wyatt had hidden the weapons, Justin felt a slight jitter in his stomach. To shake it he spoke. “You said that Roth goes early to the seer.”

“Yes. I do not think he would have the courage to confront him in the evening and probably the earlier the better.”

As they got nearer the tree, Wyatt left the dirt road. Justin stopped for a moment waiting. Wyatt looked pleased as he took the tools down from the branches he had rested them on. He returned to the road and handed one to Justin. “Anyone who sees us will take us for reapers.” The two continued for a way in silence. The sun continued to grow warmer. By the time they reached the tunnel access it was half way to its peak.

They stopped and Justin handed his scythe to Wyatt and unshouldered the bag containing the armor. Wyatt then brought out a rope that they secured to a stake in the ground next to the opening, obviously for use by Roth and his men. A sweat of excitement covered Justin as he pulled the metal vest over his head and it settled with a satisfying series of musical clinks into place. The bright sun overhead was reflected from a thousand tiny facets on his chest into his eyes. He squinted around at Wyatt, took a deep breath and said, “I’m ready.” Wyatt handed him the scythe, and clapped him on the back making the mail jingle again. Justin took another look around and a couple of deep breaths and then said, “Alright, see you in a while,” and squatted down, placing his hands on the sides of the opening. He tensed his arms and lowered his body into the hole, then after a second suspended there, he let go. As he dropped, however, something dark, stiff, and putrid smelling flapped up into his face and engulfed his head taking his breath away. His arms shot up instinctively and as he landed he succeeded in pulling the thing violently from his face, and holding on to it with his one empty hand. Adrenaline surging and ready for a fight, he looked down to see what had attacked him. What he saw made his heart quail within him. The thing that had flown into his face was the vest. He had no idea what supernatural forces were at work, but his magical mail had been transformed into a shirt of torn rags, and it was stained and caked with dried and stagnant blood. He couldn’t believe what he saw. He touched it gingerly with his free hand. It was stiff in places where the thick, clotted blood had dried nearly black. Other parts were crusty with dark red blood. The stench of it almost choked him. Justin lifted the bottom of it slightly preparing to take it off, but the thought of it passing over his face was unbearable. Not knowing what to do he let it fall from his hand. As he did so however, the air that had been inside the shirt wafted in a tiny gust up through the neck hole and into his nostrils. He felt his stomach lurch upward and had to swallow violently to keep from vomiting. When his stomach and throat stopped contracting he stood perfectly still, so as not to stir the air and catch another whiff of the putrid smell. Suddenly Tory’s words of speculation, about what might happen if they tried to use the gifts without The King’s blessing, came rushing back into Justin’s mind.

He dropped to his knees and a lump of terror began to rise in his throat. This would be no protection against the deadly arrows of Roth. A little shower of dirt and the sound of Wyatt’s jogging footsteps roused him from his bleak thoughts. Suddenly the whole plan seemed insane to him. He attempted to cry out to Wyatt above, but had no voice. He swallowed hard and forced out a croaking, “Hey, wait!” He swallowed again and emitted another weak, “Hey!” But Wyatt was gone. Justin grabbed the rope and frantically put his foot on the first knot. He jerked himself up and quickly climbed to the second. He had to stop Wyatt before it was too late. Just then the rope shifted and a shower of dirt rained down on him as he fell. He landed with a thud on the earth floor of the tunnel with the unknotted top of the rope lying on his hands, which still clutched the middle portion. When he looked up he could just see the thick top portion of the strong stake still fast in the ground.

Wyatt jogged along easily in a straight line to where he knew the other opening of the tunnel to be. When he reached the place he repeated his actions of a few moments earlier, securing another stout rope to the stake by the hole. Then he dropped to his stomach in the thick grass and laid his head on one forearm several inches from the large hole. He would easily be able to hear Roth as he passed beneath, but he would be out of sight even if Roth did look up as he went under the opening. When Roth had passed out of earshot he would throw down the rope and lower himself into the tunnel; there he would prevent anyone from reaching and capturing Justin. He was so intent on listening for noise from the tunnel and going over the plan that he didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until they were almost upon him. He hadn’t even time to wonder who it was, before he heard one of Roth’s men exclaim, “Ho, what have we here? If it isn’t our apple thief.” Wyatt turned just in time to see the hands coming down to grab his arms, pull him up and hold him fast. He thrashed like a wild animal trying to free itself, but his captors had gotten a firm hold and he couldn’t loosen it. He thought of Justin ahead in the tunnel, and how there would be no one to prevent him getting caught. This made him struggle harder, but the men only held him tighter. The one who had spoken before said, “Let’s hurry back with him. We may be able to catch the lord before he leaves for the stargazer’s wood,” and though he resisted, they began to drag him in the direction of the manor.

Justin sat for a few seconds staring at the rope in his hands as the gravity of the situation settled on him. He was trapped, waiting for Roth. His armor was gone. He couldn’t climb out and stop Wyatt. Unless he could lasso that stake or a tree he couldn’t climb out at all. But Wyatt was depending on him. He had already gone to play his part. Justin did still have the weapon, but without the mail vest he didn’t like his chances of surviving one of Roth’s arrows. Chilling fear crept all through him and he began to look around for a hiding place. There was nothing to see but rock and earth all around. The walls, floor, and ceiling were smooth and even except for a strange curved metal rod protruding from the wall in one high spot. No cracks, corners or crevices, nowhere to hide. “What am I doing?” he silently asked himself. He looked at the opening above and the bright, blue heavens beyond. “How did I ever get here? And why did I think I could take on Roth?” He remembered Wyatt’s father and the farmer and how they’d been mistreated. It still angered him, but he began to remember other things too.

Perhaps it was the darkness of the tunnel that reminded him of the dream of Adlai, and he slipped into a sort of waking dream. The vision of his eyes became blank and he only saw visions in his mind. He saw himself as if looking at a stranger. He couldn’t believe that face was his own as he accused Roth in the street outside Wyatt’s home. He hadn’t seen that much hate even in Roth’s face, when he shot the arrow into the farmer’s field. And his voice when he heard it was so full of loathing. He shook his head trying to force the memory away. But the vision changed and showed him entering the building to steal the mail. Slinking like a thief, but then he was a thief, and the look of obsessive revenge in his eyes. He shook his head even harder. But the vision only moved forward in time to the point where he lied to the boy in the field. Lying, stealing, plotting revenge and murder – what had he become? Suddenly he was nothing but shame. Where had things gone so wrong? He’d started out to stop a tyrant, not become one himself. He wanted to disappear, hide it all, or just run away somewhere and forget everything. Trapped in the tunnel, as he was, these options were impossible. The tunnel! He was suddenly aware again of his predicament. He again looked up at the clear blue heavens beyond the hole, and thought of the way Tory’s people relied on the Great King’s power. He wished he had a way to call on him for help. But he didn’t even have a right to ask for help. He felt as evil as Roth, and knew that he was. He wished he hadn’t judged him in the first place. It was as Tory had said. He had no right to judge or punish. Only the King had that right and the wisdom to temper justice with mercy. Roth was more powerful so his wrath held more fury. But the wrath itself was the same as Justin’s. When had anger given way to pride and wrath and judgment? If only he’d stopped at anger. A sob shook his body as his face sank to the floor in front of his knees. “It was the same with Gareth and Kegan. I let my pride and anger rule me,” he thought, “I owe them my repentance.”

That’s where it had started, he realized, and likely this was where it would end, his end. Even now, though, pride was working against him. Admitting to himself that he’d been wrong was somehow comforting; the thought of repenting in humility wasn’t that attractive an idea. Guilt and fear were growing, though, and he forced his mind to turn away from himself. He could hardly bear to contemplate the holiness, mercy, and love of the Great King being available to him in his unworthy state. He was still crumpled in a heap with the bloody, stinking rags clinging to him. Not knowing what else to do, he lowered his face to the cold stone and breathed the only words that felt true, “Oh Great King, I’m sorry, please, please help me.”

“Ha ha ha,” a low gleeful laugh filled the tunnel. Justin looked up into the evil face of Roth standing about six feet away, a torch in one hand and his bow on his other arm. “Yes, you are in sore need of help, young vermin. Is my would-be judge now come prepared to be my executioner? And your weapon of choice is a garden tool? I don’t know what to make of your filthy attire.” Roth stepped close to Justin and placed the torch in the metal bracket on the wall that Justin had noticed earlier. “All right! You have obviously trespassed my home armed, to attack me, so stop cowering. Stand and face me!” With the last command Roth landed a kick on the side of Justin’s head. It blurred his vision for a second, caused him to drop the scythe, and left his ear ringing, but even the pain somehow seemed secondary to a surreal calm that was settling on him.

Feeling a strange peace, considering the circumstances, Justin slowly rose to his feet and looked steadily at Roth, ready to meet his end, knowing that he was no better than Roth who would now kill him. After a few long seconds of waiting, however, he became aware that Roth wasn’t shooting him or even talking. He forced his eyes to focus, and looked on in confusion as Roth’s face contorted strangely as if he was in great pain. Finally, when his expression settled, Justin was surprised to see it was one of horror, and he seemed to be starring at Justin’s chest. Suddenly he remembered the bloody rags, but there was no conceivable reason that they would cause this reaction in Roth. Justin was dismayed and started to look down at the rags himself, then he heard a clatter as Roth’s bow hit the stone floor, and the sound of Roth’s retreating run.

For a short moment he simply stared unbelieving after Roth. Then his shock subsided and he stepped forward and bent down to pick up the bow. As he did so he heard a clinking and felt the weight of the mail on his shoulders. The vest was back; he looked at it in astonishment. The rags were not to be seen. The beautiful mail vest was back, but it shone in a different way, glistening and wet. He turned back toward the hole in the tunnel ceiling to get light for a better look. It looked red and shinning in the light and now bore a plate in the center, etched with the crest of the Great King that Justin had noticed on some of the jewelry of Tory’s people. Justin lifted the smooth metal to turn it in the sunlight and was surprised to find it felt, as well as looked, wet. And when he dropped it his hand was wet with fresh, red blood. Alarmed, he checked his head first, then the rest of himself, for injuries, possibly incurred from the kick or the drop through the hole, but found none. It was very puzzling to him. He had no more idea what had transformed the vest back, or where the fresh blood had come from, than he did what had changed it to rags full of filthy blood in the first place. And unlike the blood on the rag shirt, this actually seemed somehow clean to Justin, and seemed to make fresh the vest and his hand too. If he hadn’t been able to see it, he would have thought his hand was wet with some cool, miraculous water that was alive. As his skin tingled at the touch of the blood, he couldn’t resist the notion that somehow it had the power to purify and transform. He regarded it for another moment, and then came to himself, remembering where he was and what had just happened. A wave of relief surged over him that he had escaped being killed by Roth. As he was reveling in this thought, he remembered his quiet outcry to the King. “Thank You, Great King,” he breathed. Suddenly Justin felt uncontrollably light as if he could even float up out of the tunnel. He hadn’t forgotten his confessions of a few moments earlier. The oppressive guilt, however, had completely vanished in his repentance, and acceptance of the forgiveness, that he felt sure the Great King was giving him.

Suddenly he remembered Wyatt and the danger he was in, with Roth likely approaching him any second. Justin wondered how long it would take for the fear of seeing the vest transformed to wear off of Roth. He imagined that even though he was shaken, Roth would still have the control to take Wyatt captive. Justin grabbed up the bow and arrow that Roth had dropped and quickly tied his rope to the arrow. Without hesitation he fired the arrow toward the branches of a tree that was barely visible outside the hole. He missed, pulled the arrow back with the rope. He fired again and hit his mark. The arrow swished through the leaves, then the rope got caught and the arrow flipped once around a small branch. He pulled hard, testing to see if it would hold. The rope-caught branches bowed almost to the ground. He wasted no time. Hurriedly he climbed the rope and pulled himself out into the bright day. He dropped the bow back through the hole, then began running back toward the tunnel opening where he hoped he would find Wyatt. As he ran he emptied his lungs of the stale, dank tunnel air and filled them with the sweet, warm air of the late morning. His thoughts raced ahead of his feet and he hoped that he would be in time to help Wyatt. When he reached the hole and saw the stake and rope above ground he was glad that Wyatt wasn’t underground, both for Wyatt’s sake, and because he hadn’t relished the thought of returning to the tunnel. But he was also immediately wary. If Wyatt wasn’t underground he should have met him. This meant that he had encountered trouble before he had a chance to go through with his part of the plan. Justin looked around. There was no one in sight and nothing to see that could give him a clue as to what had happened. Justin knew that Wyatt wouldn’t have deserted him so he had to have met trouble…and trouble came from Roth. Again Justin began running, this time straight for the manor and faster than before.

As Justin neared the manor he realized that he had never seen it up close before. It wasn’t as large as he’d thought, but more formidable. The wall was higher than it looked from a distance, and the stones had been laid smoothly so as to present a sheer, unclimbable face. The house inside could be seen from nearby hills, and was solidly built with only tiny windows covered with bars, well-spaced, to offer excellent defense for watchers and archers. He wondered if someone was watching him right now with an arrow trained on him. Justin knew Roth to be an expert archer, and he had heard that he required his men to be skilled as well. Justin contemplated the challenge of gaining entrance, without being taken prisoner or killed, as he skirted around the wall from about forty yards away.

When he reached the front where the gate was located, he was surprised to find a scene of confusion. Several of Roth’s men were arguing so heatedly that they weren’t even keeping watch. A short distance from them Justin spotted Wyatt, slumped with his back against the wall, hands and feet bound. Though they paid him no attention where he was, Justin knew he could not reach Wyatt unnoticed, and he could tell that to confront the group in their present temper would only get him taken captive, and would not help Wyatt at all. He decided to try to crawl a bit closer and see if he could discover the reason for the argument. Even in the dangerous situation, Justin couldn’t help gulping in the intoxicating smell of the earth and grass as he inched forward with his head down. It seemed everything held a sort of newness since the tunnel. When he had covered about half the distance, the noise began to sound intelligible. He inched forward a few more feet and then lay still to listen.

“I tell you he’s gone mad, Marshall,” yelled a heavily bearded man.

“He’s never been sane. When he’s in a rage, you get out of the way and let it pass,” answered one who must have been Marshall.

“You weren’t there, Marshall. Grant’s right. He’s never been this way. And what’s worse it’s because he’s scared. I could tell,” said a man with a red, curved scar on his neck.

“He hadn’t even time to get to the seer and back, so what could have scared him? You two are growing into old women.”

The scarred man jumped on Marshall at this point, and both landed several blows before five of the others pulled them apart.

When they stopped struggling the one called Grant spoke again. “Well, I have had my fill of it. I’m going to move on after I get my pay this fortnight. There are other lords nearby who are easier to work for.”

“You won’t get the wage you’re used to,” countered Marshall. “You pigheads don’t know where your bread’s buttered.”

“Sometimes I wonder how much more Roth can get away with, before the serfs get sick enough of it to do something. An’ if that happens the wage may not seem so good,” said a smaller, bald headed man.

“I heard that the cattle herders have even sent one to the Great King to bellyache about the taxes,” said the heavily bearded Grant. “And that’s what he was ranting about. A sign from the King.”

“So we’re afraid of the King, are we?” goaded Marshall, “Do we wet our beds too?”

More yelling followed this and Justin took the opportunity to try and get a little closer to Wyatt. He didn’t really have a plan of freeing him, but he thought maybe he could at least let him know he wasn’t alone. He was about fifteen yards away when he heard a loud yell followed by silence, and turned to see that Roth, himself had come out of the gate and was now regarding his men with wild eyes and a hateful snarl on his mouth. Wyatt for his part looked surprised, then miserable, to see Roth.

“So is it a revolt I find?” he bellowed, and most of the men cowered looking at the ground or their feet. Those brave enough to face him were still silent and wary looking. “Perhaps you would like to disavow yourselves of my employment. Would anyone like to leave? He should feel free.” As he said this he moved his hand to the bow that hung from his shoulder, not his favorite one, which he had carried earlier, and Justin knew to be lying in the tunnel. Roth began a slow survey of the men on his left, staring at each one for a couple of long seconds before moving to the next. When his head turned far enough right, Justin saw his eyes jerk toward Wyatt. But he steadily continued, regarding each man until he had finished with the last.

He then pretended to just catch sight of Wyatt, and affected a mood change, and raising his voice to a mocking pitch said, “What have we here? Is it my apple thief?” An audible sigh emerged from the group of men, now that Roth’s attention moved away from them. Wyatt turned baleful eyes toward Roth and waited. Justin held his breath. “Well, now this is a problem,” pretended Roth. “You see, I am like a father to these errant, overgrown boys here.” The men became tense again and exchanged short glances. “And sometimes, like all children, they become petulant and I have to chide them. That is what you have witnessed today, thief. And I wouldn’t want you to mistake anything you have heard. Moreover, I would be extremely upset if you were to carry false rumors back to any of your vile companions. Yes, you have put me in quite a spot by being here just now. And why are you here, anyway?” The question was spoken as if to Wyatt, but it was to the man they called Grant that Roth looked for an answer.

“Marshall can tell you, m’lord. It was he who discovered him,” Grant answered.

Roth turned to Marshall. “Well, m’lord, I found the little pig a’ lying in wait, at the first woodward tunnel out. He’d staked himself a rope too, so I guess he was a’meanin to go down. That’s all, m’lord.”

“I see,” said Roth, trying to maintain his tone of mock concern, but it was more genuine now. “Who else is in league with you, apple thief? Tell me, does your crazy old father want to cross ways with me again?”

A look of terror flitted across Wyatt’s face. “You know he doesn’t, my lord,” he answered meekly.

“No, I can’t imagine that he would,” said Roth returning to his affected tone. “Well, perhaps you have made a partner of that newcomer who jumped to your defense the other day in town.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I was there in your field alone. I am not working with anyone,” Wyatt said.

“Well, since you are a liar as well as a thief, I guess I needn’t bother asking what you were doing there.” Wyatt didn’t reply. “I see,” Roth continued. “Well, you have become too much of a nuisance to me, thief. I need to dispose of you, and if your friend has any ambitions aimed against me, I need to send him a message. I can always deal with him later.” Roth turned with a snap to the group of men. “Marshall, stand your prisoner against the wall.” Marshall obeyed, walking over and roughly jerking Wyatt to his feet.

“Now, let us see,” Roth looked down the line of faces, lingering on the ones who didn’t return his gaze. Finally, he stopped on the heavily bearded man who stood with his head bowed low, starring it would seem, at the tops of his feet. “Brendan,” Roth barked.

The man’s head jerked up, his face full of dread.

“You may have the honor of ridding us of this thief,” announced Roth extending his bow toward him.

“Yes, m’lord,” the man answered miserably, taking the bow and an arrow that Roth had just removed from his quiver.

As the man began to shuffle in Wyatt’s direction Justin yelled, “Stop!” and leaped to his feet.

Everyone turned shocked faces in his direction. Wyatt’s then became even more defeated, and Roth’s became a mixture of fear and rage. Justin was running toward him. “You stop!” Roth screamed. Justin did. Only a few yards separated him from the others. They all stared at the bright, blood covered vest with the blazing emblem of the Great King shining in the middle.

“What does it mean, m’lord?” croaked Marshall.

“It means nothing!” screamed Roth his voice cracking.

“But, m’lord, the crest, it is that of…” began Grant.

“Silence!” yelled Roth. “What do any of you know of these things? I will decide what is to be done. I am his governor, after all,” he shivered as he said the last and paused at a momentary loss. Then he pulled himself up and barked, “Untie the thief. Bring him before me.” While this was done Roth kept watch on Justin from the corner of his eye, but would not look directly at him. After he was untied, Wyatt walked to Roth on his own while the others dropped back to the wall, putting as much distance between themselves and Justin as possible. Roth gathered his nerves visibly and said in as commanding a tone as he could maintain, “You two are obviously involved in some sorcery that I, being a just leader, want no part of. Your own evil will return to pay you out what is coming to you. I, therefore, send you to collect your punishment of fate. I wash my hands of you and command that you never come before me again. If you do, I will be forced to let myself be used in the high office of judging you which, being not proud, I shun at this time. Be gone.” Roth then turned aside from Wyatt and struck what he thought a noble pose. Still he kept Justin in his sight but did not turn his eyes or head to him. None of the men made a sound. They all stood staring in disbelief at Roth, some with mouths agape.

Wyatt turned and looked at Justin. Justin motioned for him to come. After turning back to Roth who had not moved a hair, he moved backwards one step, then another. When no one tried to stop him, he turned and began jogging toward Justin, glancing often over his shoulder at the scene, which had not changed. When he reached Justin they both began running together toward the road to town. Wyatt continued to look back over his shoulder until the manor was out of sight, and they continued to run for a bit after that. When they finally slowed to a walk and had caught their breath Wyatt said, “What happened, how bad are you hurt?”

“I’m not hurt at all,” Justin answered.

Wyatt stopped suddenly and said, “But the blood all over the vest?”

Justin stopped and faced him, “I can’t explain it. I have no idea where it is from, nor the crest, and the strangest thing is that it hasn’t dried up. Feel it, it is wet and somehow clean feeling.”

Wyatt extended his hand, but pulled it back before touching the vest. “Well, what happened in the tunnel? And what happened back there at the gate?”

Justin began walking again and Wyatt followed his lead. “Wyatt, I can’t explain any of this but here’s what happened. When I jumped into the tunnel the vest turned to rags. They were crusted with blood and stinking. That wasn’t going to be any protection and I got scared. I tried to call for you but you were already too far away. I tried to climb out but the rope came loose and fell down. I know how this is going to sound to you, but I was just plain scared. And I got to thinking about everything, and this part you’re really not going to like, but I decided I’d been wrong. I decided I didn’t want to kill Roth. When he showed up, I was down on the floor of the tunnel, actually trying to talk to the Great King. I know that sounds insane but that’s what I was doing. I was sure that Roth would kill me. He talked like he would. And I am ashamed of this part; I wasn’t thinking at all of what would happen to you. I thought if he killed me, well, that was just how it would be. I was leaving it up to the King. Roth told me to stand up and I did. Then he dropped his bow and turned and ran away. I didn’t know what had scared him until I saw that the vest had changed back, and there was the blood and the crest. Then I thought about you and I knew I had to get out and try to help you. I used his bow and shot the rope back out into a tree and climbed out. That’s it.”

Wyatt had stood silently listening, looking down at the dusty road. He was still silent for a few seconds. Then he looked Justin squarely in the face and simply said, “Well, it wasn’t your fight.” Then he turned and started toward town.

“Wait, Wyatt, I know this isn’t what you wanted to happen. But something happened to me in that tunnel. I’m not sure what. But I used to be like you, wanting to make people pay when they were wrong. And now I don’t think it’s up to me, and it is better this way.”

Wyatt stopped and wheeled around. “Justin, I thought I could count on you. I thought we understood each other. You had him. You had him running from you, and you with his weapon as well as your own. Do you have any idea how rare that chance was? But like I said, it’s not your fight.”

“I wish I could make you know what happened to me in there.”

“I don’t want to know. What about back at the gate?”

“I can’t be sure about that either, but I think Roth is afraid of the King…this vest…I don’t know, Wyatt. I wish I could give you the answers you want, but I don’t have them. I can’t explain any of this even to myself. I’m sorry if you think I’ve let you down. I hope someday you don’t think that, because I’m sure we were wrong. Roth’s not right either. But we were wrong. It’s like Tory told me, we had no right to judge him. We are different, but no better. Only the King has the right to deal with him for his wrongs.”

“I don’t understand that, Justin, and I don’t know that I want to,” said Wyatt quietly.

“What will you do now?”

“I don’t know. For the first time in my life I’m considering my father’s advice of moving to another town. But it’s too soon. I don’t know yet. What about you? You may continue to consider me your friend if you stay on here. I don’t understand any of what you’re telling me, but I don’t think you betrayed me.”

“Thank you for that, Wyatt. I am going to return home after I finish things with Tory’s family. But I will consider you my friend, and I hope you consider me yours.”

“Well, then, farewell friend.”

“Farewell, Wyatt.”

Knowing that everything necessary had been said they each went their own ways, Wyatt continued toward town and Justin turned off through the fields toward Tory’s home.

When Justin left Wyatt he was sad but his own heart was not heavy. He hadn’t known such joy in his life, and wondered at it, considering what lay before him. Before he had gone far he stopped and removed the vest, again marveling at the refreshing feel of the blood. He folded it and put it into his shirt then continued.

The sun had passed its peak when he reached Tory’s home. He found them sitting and reclining, under the same tree that they’d been under when Tory had told him about Wyatt’s parents’ history with Roth. When Tory’s mother saw him, she smiled and said, “We have plenty of stew left in the pot on the hearth and there is bread on the table.”

“It’s delicious, Justin. Breck took a stag today and brought us a roast. Get a bowl and join us here,” said Tory.

“Thank you. I will do that in a moment. I would like the chance to talk to you all first,” Justin said sitting down beside them.

“Certainly, go on,” said Barker.

Justin looked at them for a moment in silence, and then he said, “I must confess a great wrong against your clan and the Great King. I hope when you have heard it you will be able to forgive me.”

“What have you done?” asked Tory.

Justin took a deep breath and began. “You know how I have despised the way your people tolerate the tyranny of Roth. I tried to inflame you against him but you rightly resisted. You also know, Tory, how unforgiving I have been of some of my own clan. I have been wrong in bitterly judging many. Anyway, I found a kindred spirit in Wyatt, Gresham’s son, in the town. He hates Roth and I tapped into his hate and mixed it with my own. I then fed on that until I believed it was right to try to deliver you all from Roth. Wyatt and I conspired to kill him. I even stole one of the treasures, the mail vest, to wear when we lay in wait for him. I won’t go into the details of our plan. They aren’t important. What is important is that our plan seemed to go wrong, but I believe that it was actually the King causing things to go right. The mail vest changed. It became a shirt of old, reeking, bloody rags. Don’t worry, though, it changed back. But it now has the King’s crest on it and it stays wet with fresh blood.” At that point Justin drew the vest from his shirt and unfolded it on the grass before them. “What now?” Justin exclaimed, “Where has the crest and blood gone?” The vest looked just as it had the first time he saw it, beautiful, but it was dry, clean, and the front was unadorned.

“It is alright, Justin,” said Barker. “I think we now know much of your story and can explain a few things to you.”

“Yes, Justin,” said Tory, “I told you that the vest makes the wearer invincible and that is true. But there is more to it than that. It also, as you have learned, has the power to transform. It is said that if the wearer puts his trust in the King, rather than his own power and righteousness, that the King’s crest will appear on the vest. And if the wearer has received the forgiveness of the King for his transgressions, the blood will appear.”

“Yes,” exclaimed Justin, “I could tell that he had forgiven me, somehow I knew. I only hope you all will forgive me as well. And I am different now. Nothing has changed with the people on whom I wanted my revenge, but I don’t feel like judging them now.”

“That is wonderful, Justin. And you needn’t worry about anyone in the clan forgiving you. The vest has done what the King intended it to. No one will accuse you,” said Tory’s mother smiling at him.

He looked at her and smiled back. “I think I’ll take you up on that supper now. I suddenly feel very hungry. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, Justin, I think I might just like a second bowl, myself,” said Barker sitting up and stretching.

“If you will, I think I will too,” Tory said, and they all rose.

Barker picked up the mail vest and refolded it. As they entered the house he laid it on a shelf by the door.

A short while later as the three wiped the thick gravy from their bowls with chunks of crusty brown bread, Justin said, “I would like to ask one last favor of your family, Tory. Could you return the vest for me tomorrow to its place among the other gifts?”

“You’re not leaving in the morning, are you?” asked Tory’s mother.

“Actually, ma’am, I’m going tonight.”

“What? Tonight? You may as well sleep here and start fresh in the morning, if you are determined to leave,” argued Barker.

“No. I thank you, but I have finally reached my destination, and it is time I returned home. I have peace to make with a couple of others. It wouldn’t make sense to delay my leaving for one night’s sleep. After all, I’ll camp out a lot on the way.”

“We’ll equip you for your journey then,” said Tory.

“I can’t begin to thank you all for all your goodness to me,” Justin said as he stood up.

“There is no need. We all consider you well met,” replied Tory’s father.

“I’ll help you gather your things from the barn,” said Tory.

About a quarter of an hour later found Justin starting back up the road with his blanket and the bag of provisions Tory’s mother had given him strapped loosely around his back and over one shoulder. His goodbyes were quick. He had never liked dragging a thing out. And he was soon out of sight of Tory’s home, the town, even the manor grounds, and walking briskly.

Although his feet were walking, he felt as if his spirit was dancing, and he was so light that he couldn’t convince himself that he was tired. He walked late into the night until the moon and stars had all risen to their zenith. The moon was in its autumn fullness, which had always seemed to him to be the brightest of the entire year. The stars too seemed more brilliant than usual. At last he decided to lie down for the night, but it was to look at the sky that he wanted, not to sleep. He moved off the road and lay down on his back on his blanket. From that perspective the sky seemed a huge dome that went all the way around him. He had always loved the night sky and had learned early to tell directions from it, so that he knew which way his home was. He lay there in the brilliance letting his eyes take in each constellation that he knew in turn. By the time he came to Adlai he was becoming drowsy, but he remembered his dream in which the starry man had come down from the sky to confront him. How different he felt now, so clean and happy. It was not to that dream he returned, though, but to the one that had him on the large, fine bed by the starlight-speckled window, dozing with a book in his hands.

Justin awoke with a slight start and immediately realized that he’d fallen asleep reading the old book. And he’d slept a good while. It was already dark. He looked at the clock, 8:37. He thought back over the story he’d read, or was that a dream he’d had while he was asleep. He sat up and looked at the book on the bed beside him and grabbed it with a start. What was going on? Had Shannon or someone come in and traded him books. The one he now held looked to be the same size but it was bound in smooth, plain white leather. Curious, he flipped it open to the middle but there was nothing on that page. He fanned the pages with his thumb and gasped. Every page in the book was as white as snow. There wasn’t one single word in the entire book. He dropped it back on the bed as if it had burned him as he quickly stood up.

He shook his head trying to think what to do first. Shannon was the most likely reason, since she was probably in the house, and the most logical reason too. He crossed his room and went to find her turning the light on as he went out his door. It didn’t make sense but it made him feel a little less eerie. Shannon wasn’t in her room so he bounded down the steps and almost ran over her as he came around the family room doorway.

“Watch it, oaf,” she said rubbing her forehead which had collided with his chin.

“Did you switch my book while I was asleep?” he demanded.

“What are you raving about?” she retorted, still pressing her hand to her head.

“Did you take the book I was reading, and leave another one on my bed, while I was sleeping, Shannon?” he said slowly and deliberately taking her and holding her by the shoulders when she made as if to walk off.

“No, you idiot, I did not,” she replied mimicking his tone. “I don’t think mom should let you sleep through dinner. It makes you delirious,” she said, shrugging away from his grasp and going into the kitchen.

Justin could tell she wasn’t lying so he went straight for the phone on the end table by the couch, dialed quickly and waited for an answer. After three rings he thought he was going to get the answering machine, but then, just before he was going to hang up, he heard Ernie’s mom say, “Hello.”

“Hi, this is Justin. Is Ernie there?”

“Sure, Justin, just a minute. I’ll get him.”

Justin listened while she called him, and heard Ernie pick up somewhere else in the house. “Hello.”

“Hey, Ernie,” said Justin tensely. Then he waited until he heard Mrs. Painter return and replace the receiver. “Ernie, this is Justin. I need to ask you something.”

“Sure, what?” asked Ernie, although given Justin’s tone, he was pretty sure he knew what was coming.

“That book you loaned me, Ernie, do you know anything odd about it?”

“So you’ve been inside,” was Ernie’s reply.

“I thought maybe I was dreaming.”

“I don’t know how it works. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think so. Not now anyway. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going crazy.”

“I can relate to that. It was the same with me.”

“And, is it white, and blank for you now?” Justin asked.

“Yes.”

“Maybe we can talk about it later some time,” suggested Justin. “I don’t want to get in the middle of it, and have Shannon walk in here.”

“Sure, I understand.”

“Ok, then I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Actually, I have to go to the dentist in the morning. I called to tell you earlier but your mom said you were sleeping, so I called and told Matt. My mom will be dropping me off at the gym after my appointment. She made it early though, so I wouldn’t miss any of camp. She’s so good to me.” The last was heavy with good-humored sarcasm.

“Ok, I’ll see you at the gym, then.”

“Sure, later, Justin.”

Justin hung up the phone and plopped down on the couch. He turned on the TV. He wasn’t in the mood yet for quiet or darkness. He didn’t even know what was on though, while he sat there thinking about all that had happened. His thoughts eventually came back around to the way the book had changed. The book! He’d left it on his bed with the light on, his door open, and then interrogated Shannon about switching it on him. What if she walked by and noticed it? He bounded up stairs only to find his way blocked by the attic ladder in the middle of the hall. His mom’s legs were visible on the top of it; the rest of her disappeared through the square opening in the ceiling. “Just gonna squeeze past, mom,” he said, as he did so, accidentally bumping the ladder.

“Whoa, careful down there,” came his mom’s voice.

He burst into his room and there was the book just as he’d left it. Sighing heavily, he grabbed it up and looked around for what to do with it. First he stuffed it into his gym bag intending to return it to Ernie. Then he decided he didn’t want to have it at the gym at all. He took it back out and sat down at his desk staring at it. He felt he must keep it safe and secret. The attic. He poked his head out of his room, to see his mom descending the ladder precariously with a cardboard box. “Here, let me get that for you,” he said, squeezing around more carefully this time and taking the box.

“Thanks, sweetie. I left you a plate on the back of the stove. I thought you might need that nap you were taking. You’ve been practicing basketball so hard lately.”

“Yeah, thanks mom. You finished up there? I’ll put the ladder up for you,” he said handing her the box.

“Oh, that’d be great. Thanks, honey.” Justin waited until she was down the stairs before he climbed the ladder and looked around the dimly lit attic for a safe place to hide the book. The back corner of the attic was all in shadow. The bare light bulb mounted just above the opening couldn’t penetrate that far. Careful not to knock his head on the steeply angled trusses, Justin moved to the very back and laid the book on a crossbeam. Then he went back to the opening and tried to see the book. He could just make out the outline, but was satisfied that it would never be noticed. His mom was about the only one to ever go up there, and that was just to stash or retrieve some seasonal or rarely used item, all of which she kept in cardboard boxes, labeled on masking tape and surrounding the opening as if they were keeping watch there. Hurriedly he pulled the string hanging from the light bulb that left the attic in darkness, backed down the ladder and folded it into the ceiling just as Shannon topped the stairs behind him.

“What’re you doing in the attic?” she asked.

He jumped as if he’d been bitten and turned around. “Uh, mom was up there, I uh, shut it for her,” he stammered. “I’m gonna get something to eat,” he added and started down the stairs.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she said under her breath. Justin ignored that and just about everything else for the rest of the evening.